*       I  •     y 

^      l>>.     Q    - 


NOW-A-DAYS! 


NEW- YOKE : 
T.     L.    M  A  G  A  G  N  O  S    &    CO. 

16  BEEKMAN-STREET. 
1854. 


EMEKED,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  One  Thousand  Eight  Hundred 
and  Fifty-four,  by  T.-L.  MAGAGNOS  k  CO.,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Dis- 
trict Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


J.     .  £. 


TO   THE   FRIEND    WUO   WITH    ILE   HAS  PLIED   THE   NEEDLE, 

AND   GUIDED   THE   PEN, 

AND   WITH    WHOM   I   HAVE    SPENT  SO  MANY    HAPPY,    BUSY    HOURS, 
THIS   VOLUME   IH   AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED,    BY 

THE   AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


IN  this  little  volume,  the  authoress  has  endeavored  to 
give  a  few  faithful  pictures  of  life,  now-a-days ;  and, 
in  doing  this,  she  has  painted  always  from  nature. 
Every  scene,  in  which  the  story  is  laid,  has  been 
familiar  to  her  own  eyes ;  imagination  has  scarcely 
added  finishing  touches  to  the  landscapes  and  portraits 
she  has  drawn. 

Maine  backwoods  life  she  has,  especially,  aimed 
to  make  true  to  nature,  as  it  is  the  first  time  that  it 
has  ever  been  admitted  into  romance-world.  The 
manners  and  customs  of  this,  hitherto,  far-oif  and 
"  unknown  land,"  she  has  examined  for  herself.  She 
has,  herself,  passed  over  the  rough  road  which  Esther 
travels  with  her  loquacious  guide ;  she  has  rested  at 
the  same  roadside  inns.  She  trusts  that  those,  who 
are  entirely  ignorant  of  this  kind  of  life,  will  be  in- 
terested and  amused  in  the  pictures  she  gives  them, 


and  that  none  will  censure  her  for  daring  to  offer  a 
new  thing  to  the  novel-reading  public. 

In  writing  "  Now-a-days,"  she  has  stepped  a  little 
aside  from  the  path  which  story  writers  have,  generally, 
trodden  before.  She  has  aimed  at  naturalness,  rather 
than  at  anything  marked  and  startling.  The  public 
taste  is  growing  weary  of  murders,  and  wars,  and  ru- 
mors of  wars,  and  she  has  preferred  to  leave  these 
trite  themes  to  some  more  fiery  pen,  and  to  paint,  as 
faithfully  as  was  in  her  power,  real  life,  New-Eng- 
land life. 

F.  E.  A. 


CONTENTS. 


CHATTER.  PAGE. 

L — A  Sudden  Cloud 9 

IL— The  Step-Mother. It 

III.— Hans  for  the  Future 84 

IV.— On  the  Way 41 

V.— The  Work-Field  reached 52 

VI— Work  begun 62 

VIL— The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death 78 

VIIL— A  Sabbath  in  the  Wilderness 89 

IX. — The  Conference 94 

X. — The  Camp 101 

XL — An  Evening  with  the  Lumbermen 109 

XIL— More  about  the  Lxunbermen 125 

XIIL— Colonel  Gordon. 143 

XIV.— A  Family  Picture 159 

XV.— Clarendon  Springs 163 

XVL— A  chat,  in  school-girl  fashion 172 

XVTL— A  new  Friend. 184 

XVIII.— Second  Love, 190 

XIX.— Second  Marriage.™ 200 

XX.— Down-East  again. 212 


VU1  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXL— The  Sewing-Circle 232 

XXII.— An  Unexpected  Meeting 250 

XXIII.— Maria. 25*7 

XXIV.— A  peep  into  Futurity 270 

XXV.— A  Trial 279 

XXVL— Virginia  at  Home 288 

XXVIL— Two  Life-paths  and  the  Choice 295 

XX  VIE.— Almost  an  old  Maid. ...  . .  303 


NOW-A-DAYS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    SUDDEN    CLOUD. 

"  HAS  the  bell  rung  yet  ?"  asked  Virginia  Clifton, 
joining  a  group  of  her  schoolmates,  who  stood  busily 
talking  and  laughing  in  their  favorite  spot,  the 
middle  of  the  long  hall,  in  the  boarding-house 
connected  with  Mr.  Marshall's  celebrated  school 
for  young  ladies. 

"No,"  replied  Maria  Brooks,  coming  out  of  her 
room,  with  slate  and  book  in  hand ;  "  I  hope  not, 
for  I  do  want  somebody  to  help  me  in  this  dread- 
ful Trigonometry  lesson !" 

"  Don't  ask  me !  don't  ask  me  I"  said  one  after 
another,  half  laughing  as  she  approached  them. 

"Here  comes  Esther  Hastings;  she'll  help  you," 
said  Yirginia. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Ettie,  as  she  was  familiarly 
called,  slowly  walking  up  the  long  hall. 

'  My  Trigonometry,  as  usual,"  sighed  poor  Maria, 
"I  cannot  understand  anything  about  these  sines, 


10  NOW-A-DAY8. 

tangents,  and  cosines;  I  do  despise  tins  abominable 
Spherical  Trigonometry — I  always  did  hate  mathe- 
matics, and  why  Mr.  Marshall  insists  on  my  study- 
ing these  studies  is  more  than  I  can  see."  And 
she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Let  me  see,  Minnie,  dear,"  soothingly  said  Es- 
ther ;  and  as  the  troublesome  sum  was  pointed  out, 
continued,  "  Oh !  I  can  tell  you  a  little  about  that 
in  a  few  moments  that  will  make  it  quite  clear, 
I  think ;  so  now  to  begin,"  and  in  fact,  a  few  words, 
a  few  figures  on  the  slate,  and  Maria  wondered  that 
it  had  so  puzzled  her. 

"  Well,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  believe  I  do  understand, 
and  thank  you  ever  and  ever  so  much,  darling  Ettie ; 
but  I  never  should  if  I  had  been  obliged  to  do  the 
sum  alone ;  but,"  she  continued,  "  I  don't  know  but 
this  study  is  good  for  me.  I  am  sure  it  cultivates  one 
Christian  grace,  at  least, — humility — for  I  never  look 
at  poor  Day's  Mathematics  without  feeling  what  a 
fool  I  am. — Any  letters?"  she  suddenly  exclaimed, 
springing  to  meet  two  girls,  who  were  coming  up  the 
long  staircase. 

"Yes!  one  for  Jennie,  and  one  for  Miss  Esther 
Hastings,  Hopedale,  Mass. — a  paper  for  .you,  Maria, 
and  for  the  rest  of  you — nothing.  I  am  sorry  to  dash 
your  hopes  thus  from  the  highest  pinnacle  of  expec- 
tation down  to  the  lowest  depths  <rf  despairing  cer- 
tainty, but  so  it  is,"  said  Emily  Sidney,  the  bearer  of 
the  letters  ;  "  and  now,  my  dear  Miss  Hastings,  if  you 
have  finished  devouring  the  contents  of  that  large 
document,  will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  accompany  me 


A    SUDDEN     CLOUD.  11 

to  Mr.  Marshall's  study  ?  as  he  wishes  to  see  us  there 
a  few  moments." 

Passing  her  arm  around  Esther's  waist  in  school- 
girl fashion,  they  descended  the  staircase ;  and  the 
group  of  girls  went  on  talking  a*s  before.  Some  mo- 
ments passed,  when  Emily  and  Esther  re-appeared — 
Emily  was  half  supporting  the  fainting  form  of  her 
friend,  and  walked  hastily  by  the  wondering  girls. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  what  is  the  matter  with  Esther 
Hastings  ?"  exclaimed  Maria  Brooks. 

In  mute  astonishment  they  looked  at  each  other, 
till  Emily  carne  out  of  Esther's  room,  and  in  answer 
to  their  numerous  inquiries,  replied  briefly,  "  Mr. 
Marshall  has  just  had  a  telegraphic  dispatch,  saying 
that  her  father  is  very  sick,  and  may  not  live  till  she 
gets  home." 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  service,"  said  Maria,  "  in  pack- 
ing her  trunk,  or  any  such  thing  ?" 

"  No,  Maria,  I  can  do  all  that  is  necessary,"  re- 
turned Emily ;  "  but  I  must  go  to  Esther  again." 

"Poor  Esther,"  ejaculated  more  than  one,  after 
Emily  left  them ;  "  she  idolizes  her  father,  and  what 
will  become  of  her  if  he  dies  !" 

"  I  pity  her  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,"  said 
Virginia;  "she  has  only  a  step-mother,  and  I  know 
she  does  not  love  her  much,  for  she  never  speaks  of 
her." 

The  school  bell  soon  rang,  and  the  girls  quickly 
obeyed  the  summons,  leaving  the  long  hall  unoccu- 
pied. 

A  few  hours  had  slipped  away,  but  to  Esther's  ex- 


12  NOW-A-DAYS. 

cited  mind  the  time  bad  seemed  interminable.  That 
precious  time  was  passing,  and  she  not  yet  on  her 
way  :  her  father  might  die,  and  she  might  not  hear 
his  parting  words — receive  his  parting  kiss. 

She  had  roused  herself  from  the  stupor  into  which 
the  sadness  had  at  first  thrown  her,  and  busied  herself 
mechanically  in  getting  ready  for  her  journey.  Now 
all  was  ready,  and  she  went  out  into  the  hall  to  bid 
adieu  to  her  old  friends.  Mr.  Marshall  led  her  to  the 
carriage,  Emily  accompanied  her,  and  with  a  fervent 
embrace,  whispered,  "  God  bless  and  comfort  you, 
dearest." 

Esther  could  not  speak,  but  her  warm  grasp  of  the 
hand  she  held  tightened,  and  tears  gushed  to  her  eyes. 
They  were  the  first  she  had  shed.  She  scarcely  heeded 
the  introduction  which  Mr.  Marshall  gave  her  to  the 
gentleman  who  was  to  take  charge  of  her,  but  fell 
back  into  a  corner  of  the  coach,  and  drawing  her  veil 
down,  gave  vent  to  her  tears.  How  her  heart  rebelled 
against  this  severe  blow  which  God  had  dealt  her ; 
"  First  my  mother,  and  now  my  father,"  she  bitterly 
thought,  "  all — all  that  is  left  me,  and  what  have  I 
done  to  deserve  this  ?"  She  could  not  pray — she  could 
think  of  nothing,  see  nothing  but  the  death-bed  of  her 
father,  and  God  had  done  it.  Bitter  and  scalding 
tears  flowed,  but  they  did  not  relieve  her  burdened 
heart.  The  coach  stopped ;  her  companion  half  lifted 
her  from  it  and  led  her  into  the  depot.  Curious  eyes 
Esther  felt  were  upon  her,  and,  hastily  controlling  her 
emotion,  she  sat  down,  feeling  as  if  her  heart  was 
crushed  under  its  load  of  misery. 


A   SUDDEN    CLOrD.  13 

The  shrill  whistle  sounded,  and  the  rushing,  mighty 
tread  of  the  locomotive  was  heard — all  was  hurry  and 
confusion,  and  she  found  herself,  she  hardly  knew 
how,  seated  in  a  car  and  rapidly  passing  towards  home. 
Home  !  the  thought  was  agony !  How  she  had  looked 
forward  to  this  homeward  journey,  and  how  different 
was  all  from  what  she  had  anticipated !  She  sat  in 
silence  brooding  over  her  woes,  feeling  almost  as  if 
wronged,  when  she  was  startled  by  the  words  of  her 
companion,  the  first  he  had  addressed  to  her.  "  Whom 
the  Lord  lovetk,  he  chasteneth." 

It  seemed  as  if  the  stranger  must  have  read  her 
thoughts.  She  looked  at  him,  and  read  in  his  dark 
eyes  sympathy  for  her,  yet  she  also  felt  a  little  self- 
condemned,  as  if  he  had  known  how  unsubmissive 
she  had  been  to  the  will  of  God.  He  continued  talk- 
ing with  her,  and  gradually  her  reserve  gave  way. 
She  told  him  much  of  herself,  of  her  idolized  father, 
and  found  a  sad  relief  in  talking  of  her  sorrows. 

The  gentle  and  compassionate  words  which  Mr. 
Percival  addressed  to  her,  fell  like  balm  upon  her 
heart,  and  the  hope  that  all  might  yet  be  well,  that  her 
father  might  recover,  somewhat  cheered  her.  But 
now  Mr.  Percival  must  leave  her,  he  said,  for  here 
their  paths  separated.  He  placed  her  on  the  boat, 
and  saw  that  all  was  arranged  for  her  comfort,  and 
with  a  few  hurried  but  kindly  words  of  sympathy  and 
encouragement,  left  her.  Once  more  alone,  Esther 
surrendered  herself  to  her  grief.  Sitting  on  the 
promenade  deck,  she  raised  her  veil,  that  the  fresh 
breeze  might  cool  her  fevered  brow.  Two  gentlemen 


14  NOW-A-DAYS. 

sat  near  her,  and  were  talking  busily  i  They  seemed 
to  be  old  friends,  delighted  to  meet  each  other  after 
a  long  absence.  Their  voices  fell  on  Esther's  ear,  but 
she  heeded  them  not,  till  the  name  of  Hastings 
arrested  her  attention — she  listened  eagerly,  as  one 
remarked,  half  carelessly,  "  You  remember  Hastings, 
the  rich  lumber  merchant?" 

"Hastings  ! — yes,  he  married  that  handsome  Mar- 
garet Wilton  for  his  second  wife,  didn't  he  ? — well, 
what  of  him  2"  rejoined  the  other,  "  hasn't  failed,  has 
he?" 

"No,  I  guess  not,"  was  the  reply,  "but  he's  lying 
at  the  point  of  death  !" 

"I  want  to  know,"  returned  his  friend,  "well, 
he  will  be  a  great  loss  to  the  community.  Let  me 
see — he  is  President  of  the  Merchant's  Bank,  isn't  he  ? 
— How  does  that  Bank  flourish?"  he  continued,  and 
then  the  conversation  turned  on  bank  stock,  railroad 
stock,  and  the  like. — Esther  had  sank  back  at  the 
mention  of  her  father's  name,  feeling  more  keenly 
than  ever  her  loneliness  and  misery.  "  How  heartless 
all  the  world  is !"  she  thought;  "and  I  am  to  live 
years  in  it,  probably."  Hours  passed,  and  she  had  at 
length  reached  Bangor.  A  servant  was,  waiting  for 
her  on  the  wharf — "  Is  he  alive,  Jamea,?"  she  asked, 
as  he  assisted  her  to  the  carriage. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Esther,  and  asking  for  you  when  I 
came  away." 

"  Drive  fast,"  she  said,  and  in  a  few  moments  she 
had  reached  home.  Scarcely  heeding  the  servant 
who  opened  the  hall  door,  she  rushed  hastily  to  her 


A  SUDDEN    CLOUD.  15 

father's  room,  flinging  her  bonnet  off  as  she  almost 
flew  up  the  staircase.  The  room  was  dark,  and  the 
heavy  breathing  of  the  sick  man  alone  broke  the 
silence. 

"  Has  Ettie  come  ?"  she  heard  articulated  with  diffi- 
culty, and  in  another  moment  she  had  sprung  to  the 
bed,  and  kissed  repeatedly  the  forehead,  cheeks  and 
lips  of  her  dying  father,  exclaiming  again  and  again, 
"  You  must  not  die,  oh,  my  father !" 

"  This  must  not  be,"  said  the  physician  who  stood 
near,  in  a  low  tone ;  "  Calm  yourself,  Miss  Esther, 
this  agitation  may  hasten  the  fatal  crisis." 

Esther  obeyed  involuntarily,  and  in  silence  seated 
herself  by  the  bedside,  while  her  father,  in  low,  broken 
accents,  said : 

"  Thank  God  that  I  have  seen  my  child  before  I 
die — oh,  Ettie,  you  have  ever  been  a  dutiful  child," 
he  continued,  "  and  may  God  bless  you  ; — I  die  con- 
tent—" 

He  paused,  as  if  exhausted,  then  resumed,  "  Though 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I 
will  fear  no  evil,  for  Thou  art  with  me — my  trust  is 
in  our  Saviour — I  shall  soon  join  your  mother." 

Incoherent  words  now  alone  fell  from  his  lips,  till 
suddenly  he  seemed  again  conscious,  and  looking  at 
his  young  and  beautiful  wife,  who  stood  by  his  side, 
he  said,  "My  beautiful  Margaret,  forgive  me  if  I  have 
wronged  you  in  making  you  the  wife  of  an  old  man — 
you  have  made  life  very  sweet  to  me."  He  took  her 
hand,  and  with  a  feeble  grasp  laid  it  on  Esther's — 
"love  each  other,"  he  said,  "for  my  sake."  Again 


16  NOW-A-DAY6. 

his  mind  wandered, — "  Annie !"  he  exclaimed,  wildly 
starting  up  and  stretching  out  his  arm,  as  if  to  embrace 
some  one ;  "  we  meet  again." — He  fell  back — "  Jesus," 
he  murmured,  and  all  was  over — Esther  Hastings  was 
fatherless.  Calmly  Mrs.  Hastings  bent  over  the  dead 
man,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  his  brow,  then  led 
Esther  from  the  room. 


CHAPTEK  II. 

THE   STEP-MOTHEE. 

SOME  days  had  passed,  and  the  rich  man  slept  in 
that  narrow  resting-place,  where  all  the  dwellers  on 
earth  must  at  last  lie  down  together.  His  business 
matters  had  been  investigated,  but,  contrary  to  the 
expectations  of  all,  it  was  found,  that  what  property 
he  possessed  would  meet  the  demands  of  his  creditors 
alone,  leaving  comparatively  nothing  for  his  wife  and 
child.  He  had  been  largely  engaged  in  navigation, 
and  for  several  years  past  he  had  met  with  heavy 
losses,  as  was  well  known ;  but  it  had  not  been  sup- 
posed that  so  large  a  portion  of  his  fortune  had  been 
thus  lost. 

The  necessity  of  making  some  definite  arrangements 
for  the  future,  which  this  change  of  circumstances 
rendered  unavoidable,  had  been  of  service  to  Esther, 
as  it  had  in  a  measure  prevented  her  from  brooding 
over  her  sorrows.  But  one  day  an  unusual  number 
of  kind  and  well-meaning  friends  had  called  on  her  to 
offer  their  sympathy.  Their  words,  it  seemed  to  her, 
opened  the  wound  afresh,  and  their  inquiries  at  last 
became  torture  to  her.  It  was  now  evening,  and,  sit- 
ting alone  in  her  chamber,  she  wept  long  and  bitterly. 


18  NOW-A-DAY3. 

"  I  am  alone  in  the  world,"  she  thought,  "  but  yet  not 
alone  in  my  grief ;  my  step-mother  must  sympathize 
with  me,  and  I  will  seek  her." 

She  rose  hastily,  and,  crossing  the  hall,  knocked 
lightly  at  the  door  of  the  room  where  she  supposed 
she  should  see  Mrs.  Hastings.  She  was  right.  A 
voice  bade  her  come  in,  and  she  opened  the  door.  A 
crowd  of  bitter  memories  rushed  over  her  heart,  as 
she  stood  upon  the  threshold  of  that  luxurious  room, 
which  her  father  had  so  tastefully  decorated  for  his 
young  wife.  A  rich  carpet,  so  soft  that  the  foot  was 
nearly  buried  in  it,  covered  the  floor.  Pictures  and 
statuary  of  rare  merit,  displaying  alike  the  wealth  and 
taste  of  the  owner,  adorned  the  room.  A  magnificent 
piano  stood  at  one  end  of  the  apartment,  while  a  large 
case,  filled  with  books,  the  works  of  the  best  authors, 
elegantly  bound,  occupied  the  other.  A  marble  table, 
loaded  with  odd  and  costly  trifles,  stood  in  the  centre, 
over  which  a  chandelier  hung.  This  was  not  lighted, 
however,  but  in  an  alcove,  shaded  by  soft  drapery,  on 
one  of  the  many  luxurious  lounges,  reclined  Mrs. 
Hastings.  A  bronze  statue  of  a  slave,  holding  a  lighted 
candle,  stood  at  the  head  of  the  couch.  The  light  fell 
on  the  face  of  the  beautiful  woman,  showing  to  Esther 
an  expression  of  the  deepest  misery  upon  her  features. 
Her  small  and  jewelled  hands  were  clasped  tightly 
over  her  breast,  and  she  lay  as  if  prostrated  by  the 
weight  of  her  woe.  Esther  glanced  around,  and  re- 
membered the  sad  hours  she  had  spent  there,  when 
her  father  was  accustomed  to  sit  listening  to  the  me- 
lodious voice  of  his  wife,  as  she  sung  to  him  at  twi- 


THE    STEP-MOTHER.  19 

light,  his  eyes  filled  with  the  passionate  love  which  he 
lavished  upon  his  peerless  Margaret.  All  this  Esther 
had  seen  till  her  heart  was  nearly  bursting  with  jeal- 
ous resentment,  that  this  radiantly  beautiful  creature, 
the  usurper,  as  she  felt,  had  so  completely  filled  the 
place  of  the  wife  of  his  youth,  her  own  gentle  mother, 
in  her  father's  heart.  But  this  was  past;  and  his 
dying  words,  "  You  have  made  life  very  sweet  to  me," 
and  "  love  each  other  for  my  sake,"  seemed  sounding 
in  her  ears. 

Touched  by  the  evident  sorro\^of  her  step-mother, 
she  approached  gently,  and  leaning  over  the  couch, 
impressed  a  kiss  on  the  white  brow  of  its  occupant, 
and  for  the  first  time  called  her  "  mother." 

A  cold  and  bitter  smile  passed  over  the  face  of  Mrs. 
Hastings,  as  she  said,  "  Do  not  mock  me,  Esther,  with 
any  appearances  of  tenderness ;  this  is  no  time  for  dis- 
simulation :  we  have  never  loved  each  other,  and  have 
never  stooped  to  any  hypocritical  pretences." 

A  haughty  flush  suffused  the  brow  of  Esther  at  this 
reception  of  her  advances,  and  she  turned  as  if  to  leave 
the  room  ;  but  *'  love  each  other  for  my  sake"  she 
seemed  to  hear,  and  she  replied,  "  It  is  true  that  no 
affection  has  ever  existed  between  us,  but  still- we  are 
united  by  our  mutual  love  for  him  who  has  left  us ;" 
and  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes. 

"No,  Esther,"  coldly  and  calmly  replied  Mrs. 
Hastings,  "  you  mistake ;  I  never  loved  your  father !" 

"  Not  love  him  !"  repeated  Esther  ;  "  then  why  did 
you  marry  him?" 

"  You  are  young  yet,"  answered  Mrs.  Hastings ; 


20  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  when  some  years  more  have  passed  over  you,  you 
will  not  probably  be  so  much  shocked  at  the  idea  of 
a  marriage  without  love." 

The  thought  that  her  father's  passionate  idolatry  of 
his  bride  had  been  requited  thus,  filled  Esther  with 
indignation,  and  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh  !  you  are  indeed 
heartless  ;  and  under  this  cold  exterior,  which  I  had 
hoped  was  but  a  disguise  for  warm  feelings,  there 
beats  no  true  woman's  heart.  And  I  have  called  you 
mother,  have  given  to  you  the  name  of  that  pure  an- 
gelic being  whose  p^ce  you  have  so  unworthily  filled. 
Thank  God  that  I  have  never  before  thus  desecrated 
that  sacred  title !" 

She  paused,  expecting  to  hear  some  mocking  reply, 
but  what  was  her  astonishment  to  see  tears  trickling 
between  her  step-mother's  fingers,  as  she  had  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  You  are  severe,  Esther,"  she  said,  in  a  broken 
voice,  .contrasting  strangely  with  her  usual  sweet  and 
clear  tones  ;  "  but  at  your  age  I  should  have  said  the 
same.  Take  heed,  that  when  you  reach  my  time  of 
life,  your  proud  soul  does  not  have  to  acknowledge 
that  it  has  been  untrue  to  itself.  I  am  unworthy," 
she  continued,  "  but,  oh !  not  heartless.  Heartless  ! 
when  now,  notwithstanding  all  my  pride,  I  am  forced 
to  own  that  I  love  one  to  whom  I  ain  nothing.  How 
I  loved  that  man !  How  I  love  him  even  now,  when 
he  has  forgotten  me,  and  has  given  to  another  that 
place  by  his  side  which  I,  the  poor  despised  one,  might 
once  have  claimed.  You  wonder,  Esther,  that  loving 
one  man  thus,  with  my  whole  heart,  I  should  have 


I 
THE    STEP-MOTHKR.  21 

given  myself  to  another.  Yet  I  did  it !  Listen  to 
rne,  for  my  soul  to-night  is  like  a  volcano  ;  I  can  no 
longer  control  its  hidden  fires.  I  will  tell  you  all. 
To-morrow  I  shall  again  be  calm  and  cold,  and  no  one 
but  you  will  know  what  burning  misery  lies  within. 
You  remind  me  of  what  I  once  was.  How  I  should 
once  have  scorned  such  a  being  as  I  now  am !  Yet 
I  cannot  bear  your  contempt.  I  will  tell  you  all,  and 
you  must,  you  will  pity  me.  I,  like  you,  was  an  only 
child,  and  the  idol  of  my  parents.  They  were  rich, 
and  no  whim  of  mine,  however  fanciful,  was  ungrati- 
fied.  It  was  a  beautiful  village  where  we  lived,  and  the 
homestead,  a  quaint  old  house,  standing  midway  upon 
a  hill,  and  surrounded  with  grand  old  trees,  and  half 
hidden  by  vines,  was,  in  my  childish  estimation, 
almost  a  paradise. 

"  My  father  had  a  great  passion  for  laying  out  the 
grounds  around  the  house  in  fanciful  ways,  and  it  was 
also  my  delight  to  plan  intricate  walks,  beautiful  sum- 
mer-houses, and  various  things  to  diversify  the  gardens, 
which  it  was  equally  pleasant  to  my  father  to  exe- 
cute. The  interior  of  the  house,  too,  at  least  those 
portions  of  it  which  were  more  particularly  my  own, 
I  used  to  fit  up  as  I  chose.  At  one  time  in  the  old 
Elizabethan  style,  while,.I  would  personate  some  great 
lady  of  that  age.  At  another  time  I  chose  to  have 
every  thing  in  the  Eastern  style,  and  as  usual,  regard- 
less of  expense,  my  father  consented.  Arraying  my- 
self in  magnificent  oriental  garments,  I  received  my 
parents.  I  never  looked  more  gorgeously  beautiful, 
and  I  remember  well  the  look  of  proud  affection  with 


22  NOW-A-DAYS. 

which  my  father  regarded  me.  Meantime  my  educa- 
tion was  by  no  means  neglected.  I  was  fond  of  study, 
and  nothing  was  spared  to  render  me  an  accomplished 
woman.  I  had  very  few  associates,  for  I  despised  the 
insignificant  girls  with  whom  I  was  brought  into  con- 
tact when  paying  visits  to  their  parents,  with  my 
father  and  mother,  and  they  in  turn  were  repelled  by 
the  haughtiness  of  my  manners.  But  I  was  very  hap- 
py at  home ;  my  books,  flowers  and  music  were  com- 
pany enough  for  me,  and  when  I  wearied  of  these,  I 
used  to  ride  off  miles  at  headlong  speed  on  my  favor- 
ite horse,  a  beautiful  Arabian,  whom  I  had  named 
Lightning.  Then,  too,  my  mother,  of  whom  I  was 
passionately  fond,  would  sit  with  me,  and  listen  for 
hours  to  my  wild  air-castles,  or  to  my  songs,  in  my 
gay  and  restless  moments,  or  in  my  calmer  moods  she 
would  sew  while  I  read  to  her ;  but  oftener  I  would 
lie  on  the  grass  by  her  side  in  the  garden,  with  my 
arms  wound  round  her,  telling  her  all  my  strange  im- 
aginings, while  she  seemed  fully  to  understand  me, 
for  we  were  much  alike,  and  all  in  all  to  each  other. 
Thus  I  grew  to  womanhood,  with  my  faults  uncheck- 
ed, and  accustomed  to  the  most  implicit  obedience 
from  all  around  me,  not  excepting  my  parents. 

"  But  there  was  a  change.  My  father  met  with  one 
of  those  sudden  reverses  so  common  to  American  mer- 
chants, and  we  were  at  once  reduced  from  affluence 
to  poverty.  My  mother,  whose  pride,  like  mine,  was 
unconquerable,  did  not  sink  beneath  the  blow,  but 
cheered  my  father  and  predicted  brighter  days.  I, 
the  proud  Margaret  Wilton,  became  a  governess ! 


THE    STEP-MOTHER.  23 

The  family  with  whom  I  lived  were  low-bred  and 
purse-proud  people,  and  disposed  at  first  to  treat  me 
with  disdainful  condescension.  But  I  was  as  haughty 
as  in  my  palmiest  days,  and  scrupled  not  to  let  them 
see  that  I  despised  them.  Yet  they  did  not  discharge 
me,  for  they  had  a  pitiful  pride  in  saying  that  Marga- 
ret Wilton  was  their  governess. 

"  Here  I  first  met  Arthur  Hammond.  Long  before 
I  knew  whether  my  affection  was  returned,  I  had 
given  my  whole  heart  to  him.  I  strove  long  against 
it,  but  it  was  in  vain.  He  was  a  poor  student  of  di- 
vinity, but  his  talents  were  of  the  highest  order.  He 
possessed,  too,  the  power  of  concealing  his  feelings,  in 
a  remarkable  degree,  and  though  I  watched  him  nar- 
rowly, I  could  not  tell  whether  he  cared  for  me.  He 
was  very  proud  and  cold  to  others,  but  though  his 
deep  voice  softened  when  he  addressed  me,  I  could 
not  tell  whether  he  loved  me,  or  pitied  merely  my 
situation.  But  at  last  he  told  me  of  his  affection ! 
How  rapturously  my  heart  beat !  but  he  said  that  I 
was  unfit  for  a  minister's  wife,  and  that  knowing  this, 
he  had  long  striven  to  conquer  his  love  for  me.  How 
changed  I  was !  Once  I  should  have  rebelled  at  such 
a  truth,  but  love  made  me  very  humble,  and  I  owned 
my  unworthiness,  and  begged  him  to  help  me  to  over- 
come my  many  faults.  Thus  time  passed,  but  still  I 
was  not  happy.  Arthur  was  so  calm,  and  saw  all  my 
faults  so  clearly,  that  I  feared  he  did  not  love  me  as 
I  wished.  My  nature  was  such,  that  I  longed  to  be 
assured  over  and  over  again  that  I  was  beloved,  and 
when  I  would  exclaim — '  Do  you  really  love  me  I ' 


24  NOW-A-DAYS. 

his  cold  reply,  *  You  wrong  me  to  doubt  it,'  would 
chill  me,  and  I  rarely  ventured  to  say  more. 

"I  was  jealous,  too,  and  to  my  childish  complaints 
and  fears,  he  would  reply  so  severely,  and  almost  con- 
temptuously, that  it  would  rouse  my  pride,  and  I 
would  resolve  never  to  see  him  more.  But  the  next 
time  I  met  him,  one  kind  glance  from  his  deep  eyes, 
one  warm  embrace,  would  at  once  overthrow  my  reso- 
lution. Then  he  would  reason  with  me,  and  urge  me 
to  acquire  self-command,  till  I  was  almost  maddened. 

"It  was  at  a  time  when  I  was  half  frantic  with  jeal- 
ousy of  a  fair  and  gentle  girl,  whose  character,  I  fear- 
ed, suited  Arthur  much  better  than  my  stormy  nature, 
which  I  felt  wearied  him,  that  your  father  met  me. 

"  My  beauty,  which  has  ever  been  my  curse,  attract- 
ed him,  and  ere  long  he  offered  me  his  heart  and 
hand. 

"I  refused  him ;  but  I  contrasted  almost  unconscious- 
ly, his  warm  devotion  with  the  apparent  indifference 
of  Arthur.  Meanwhile  my  parents,  whom  I  had  ac- 
quainted with  my  rejection  of  Mr.  Hastings,  plead 
with  me  to  accept  his  suit,  which  he  proffered  again. 

"  They  had  never  liked  my  engagement  to  Arthur ; 
and  my  mother  resented,  *  not  his  efforts  to  improve 
my  character,'  she  said,  '  but  his  harsh  manner  of  doing 
it.' 

" '  Margaret,'  she  said,  *  I  would  not  urge  your 
marriage  with  Mr.  Hastings,  if  I  thought  you  would 
be  happy  with  Arthur ;  but  I  have  seen  that  you 
have  been  restless  and  miserable  ever  since  your  en- 
gagement. Good  and  noble  I  allow  that  he  is,  but  he 


THE    STEP-MOTHER.  25 

is  yet  too  much  of  a  tyrant,  and  your  love  for  him 
would  render  you  almost  a  slave  to  his  will.  It  will 
be  a  long  time,  too,  before  he  can  offer  you  a  home, 
and  your  father  and  I  long  to  see  you  placed  in  a 
situation  which  you  are  so  well  fitted  to  adorn  ;  and 
Margaret,'  she  continued,  '  your  father's  care  and 
anxiety  is  wearing  him  fast  to  the  grave,  and  will  you 
not  gladden  his  heart  by  becoming  the  wife  of  a  gen- 
erous man,  who  loves  you  devotedly.' 

"  But  it  is  useless  to  repeat  the  various  arguments 
which  my  mother  used ;  suffice  it  to  say,  she  prevail- 
ed, and  I  consented  to  do  as  she  wished. 

"  The  preparations  for  our  marriage  were  hurriedly 
made,  and  I  had  hardly  time  to  realize  what  a  step  I 
was  taking,  amid  the  hurry  and  bustle. 

"  All  this  while  I  had  not  seen  Arthur.  It  had  been 
his  custom,  when  I  had  been  '  unreasonable,'  as  he 
said,  to  punish  me  by  not  coming  to  visit  me  for  some 
time  ;  and  if  reports  of  my  coming  marriage  reached 
him,  he  either  disbelieved  them,  thinking  it  one  of  my 
efforts  to  awaken  his  jealousy,  or  scorned  to  allow  me 
to  know  that  he  heeded  them. 

"The  day  before  my  wedding  was  to  take  place,  I 
walked  out  alone,  to  visit  some  of  my  old  haunts,  be- 
fore I  left  them,  it  might  be  forever.  Half  involun- 
tarily 1  took  my  way  to  a  spot  which  was  a  favorite 
with  both  Arthur  and  myself,  an  old  rock,  shaded  by 
trees,  and  covered  with  moss,  and  sat  down  to  rest, 
listening  to  the  babble  of  a  little  brook  which  flowed 
at  its  foot. 

2 


ZO  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  Suddenly  I  heard  rapid  footsteps,  and  in  a  moment 
Arthur  Hammond  stood  before  me  ! 

"  I  could  not  speak.  His  dark  piercing  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  me,  and  I  suppose  I  turned  pale,  for  a 
deathlike  faintness  spread  over  me. 

"  He  saw  it  and  said,  '  Compose  yourself !  I  do  not 
come  to  reproach  you.  No,  Margaret,  I  do  not  wish1 
to  add  one  drop  to  your  bitter  cup,  nor  would  I  ex- 
change places  with  you,  suffering  as  I  do.  I  knew  too 
well,'  he  proceeded,  '  that  we  were  unsuited  to  each 
other,  but  I  loved  you  too  fondly  and  strove  to  blind 
myself  to  the  fact  that  I  was  doing  wrong  to  link  our 
fates  together,  but  I  little  thought  that  yours  would 
be  the  hand  to  deal  me  so  severe  a  blow.' 

"  '  Oh  why,'  gasped  I,  '  did  you  not  tell  me  before 
that  you  loved  me  thus  ?  How  much  misery  might 
have  been  spared  us  both  ?' 

" '  I  have  erred,'  he  said,  '  and  I  see  it  when  it  is 
too  late.  While  trying  to  regulate  your  stormy 
nature,  I  have  feared  to  show  you  the  depth  of  my 
love,  lest,  secure  of  that,  you  might  cease  to  strive 
to  gain  my  affection.  But,  oh !  Margaret,  it  has  been 
a  hard  task,  and  I  miscalculated  the  strength  of  your 
attachment  to  me.  It  is  all  over  now,'  he  continued, 
"  and  I  must  bid  you  farewell.  I  will  not  tell  you  to 
forget  me,  for  I  know  that  you  cannot,  but  I  hope 
that  time,  the  great,  healer  of  heart-wounds,  may 
bring  to  you  more  happiness  than  I  can  expect  for 
myself.' 

He  turned  to  go.     The  misery  of  my  future  life 


THE    STEP-MOTHER.  27 

without  him  rushed  over  me,  and  I  exclaimed  wildly. 
'  Then  you  can  leave  me — you  cast  me  off  forever — ' 

" '  Margaret,'  replied  he,  '  you  have  chosen  your 
course ;  it  is  your  hand  which  separates  us — which 
has  placed  on  the  hearts  of  both,  a  load  of  sorrow.  It 
only  remains  now,  for  each  to  bear  it  as  best  he  can.' 

"He  approached  me  and  took  my  hand.  'God 
bless  you,'  said  he,  and  hastily,  as  if  he  dared  not 
trust  himself  to  say  more,  he  left  me. 

"  Oh !  the  agony  of  that  hour !  It  is  as  fresh  as  if  it 
were  yesterday.  I  lay  on  the  grass  realizing  now  all 
that  I  had  done.  Kesentment  and  jealousy  had  given 
me  strength  before,  but  now,  when  I  could  not  think 
harshly  of  Arthur,  I  saw  all  as  it  was.  He  was  lost  to 
me  for  ever !  My  future  life  must  be  a  wretched  one, 
and  I  alone  was  the  author  of  my  misery.  I  longed 
to  die — for  I  dreaded  to  take  the  next  step,  that  of 
marrying  Mr.  Hastings,  and  I  could  not  resolve  to 
break  off  the  engagement.  I  had  not  strength  to  re- 
sist my  mother's  strong  will,  and  I  felt  that  retreat 
was  impossible.  My  own  pride,  too,  when  I  came  a 
little  more  to  myself,  rebelled  at  the  idea.  I  must 
go  on — for,  even  if  I  refused  to  become  the  wife  of 
Mr.  Hastings,  I  knew  Arthur  too  well  to  suppose  that 
he  would  return  to  me.  We  were  as  much  separated 
as  if  the  ceremony  that  bound  me  to  Mr.  Hastings  had 
been  spoken. 

"  It  was  growing  dark  when  [  at  last  started  for 
home ;  I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  met  your  father, 
who  had  come  to  our  house,  and  finding  me  gone,  had 
set  out  in  search  of  me.  He  gently  chid  me  for  wan- 


28  NOW-A-DAY6. 

dering  so  far  and  wearying  myself.  He  was  so  kind 
and  noble  that  I  despised  myself  for  the  wrong  I  felt 
that  I  was  doing  in  marrying  him  without  love.  I 
resolved  to  tell  him  all,  and  commenced,  but  he  inter- 
rupted me. 

"  '  I  know,  Margaret,'  said  he,  '  that  you  have  been 
engaged  to  another — I  know  too  that  you  respect  and 
esteem  me,  for  you  have  told  me  so,  and  I  trust  to 
time  and  my  own  ardent  love  for  you  to  gain  me  that 
place  in  your  heart  which  I  wish.  Let  the  past 
remain  in  oblivion  ;  I  feel  sure  that  at  a  future  time 
you  will  discover  that  your  attachment  for  my  rival 
was  but  a  girlish  fancy,  and  no  effort  of  mine  shall  be 
wanting  to  promote  your  happiness.' 

"  And  nobly  did  he  fulfil  all  his  promises.  After  our 
marriage,  through  his  influence,  my  father  obtained  a 
lucrative  situation,  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
my  mother  enjoying  the  comforts  which  her  declining 
years  demanded.  Mr.  Hastings  was  ever  most  kind  and 
delicate  in  his  attentions,  but,  alas !  though  I  did  try 
to  return  his  affection  as  I  felt  that  I  ought,  I  could 
not  love  him.  It  seemed  as  if  the  effort  1  made  only 
estranged  me  more  from  him.  I  was  heartsick  and 
miserable,  yet  strove  to  hide  my  grief  under  an  ap- 
pearance of  gaiety,  and  I  succeeded  in  deceiving  my 
father  and  mother,  and  even  my  husband,  into  a  belief 
in  my  happiness.  During  this  time  I  had  heard 
nothing  of  Arthur,  except  that  he  had  graduated  with 
high  honors  and  was  spoken  of  as  a  young  man  of 
great  promise.  One  evening  we  met  at  a  large  party. 
1  was  arrayed  in  most  splendid  costume  and  sur- 


THE    STEP-MOTHER.  29 

rounded  by  a  large  circle  of  admirers,  when  suddenly 
in  the  midst  of  my  gaiety,  I  saw  Arthur  Hammond, 
who  stood  at  a  little  distance  looking  at  me  fixedly. 
My  heart  beat  wildly,  and  the  blood  left  my  cheeks, 
but  by  a  violent  effort  I  controlled  myself,  and  con- 
tinued talking  though  I  knew  not  what  I  said.  I  had 
hoped  at  times  that  I  should  forget  him — that  I  should 
be  able  to  meet  him  with  composure,  but  now  I  knew 
too  well,  how  fondly  I  still  loved  him  and  feared  that 
I  must  ever  so  regard  him.  As  soon  as  possible  I  left 
the  circle  where  I  was  standing  and  entered  a  little 
conservatory  where  I  hoped  for  solitude.  But  soon  I 
heard  some  one  approaching,  and  a  well-known  voice 
addressed  me.  I  started  and  trembled  violently,  for 
it  was  Arthur  Hammond. 

"  '  Do  not  be  alarmed,  Margaret,'  said  he,  '  I  would 
not  thus  meet  you  to  remind  you  of  anything  in  the 
past  which  might  give  you  pain  ;  but  I  see  you  happy, 
and  I  rejoice  in  it.  Let  us  still  be  friends,  for  as  a 
friend  I  can  now  regard  you,  and  can  sincerely  con- 
gratulate you  that  you  are  the  wife  of  a  man  so  well 
worthy  of  you.  I  too  am  married  and  long  to  intro- 
duce my  bride  to  you.  Shall  I  bring  her  here  ?' 

I  murmured  some  words  of  common-place  polite- 
ness, and  he  left  me.  I  saw  that  he  loved  me  no 
longer,  and  I  calmed  myself  to  meet  his  wife.  I  saw 
the  looks  of  ardent  love  with  which  he  regarded  her 
as  they  re-entered  the  room.  She  was  a  pure  and 
fairy-like  creature,  and  as  she  approached  me  looking 
so  almost  holy  in  her  airy  white  dress,  I  felt  the  con- 
trast which  was  painfully  manifest  between  us.  I,  in 


30  NOW-A-DAY8. 

my  gorgeous  apparel  and  glowing  oeauty,  fitly  repre- 
sented the  glory  of  this  world  which  passeth  away, 
but  she  seemed  fit  only  for  a  purer  and  brighter 
sphere. 

"  I  spoke  a  few  words  to  her,  and  her  reply  in  a  voice 
sweet  and  birdlike  fell  on  my  ear,  like  some  far  off 
heavenly  melody.  Purity  and  simplicity  breathed 
in  her  every  movement,  and  I,  proud  as  I  was,  felt 
humbled  before  her.  I  did  not  wonder  that  Arthur 
worshipped  her,  as  I  saw  plainly  enough  that  he  did, 
but  I  left  them,  for  I  could  not  bear  to  see  my  place 
in  his  heart  so  completely  filled  by  another ;  yet  I 
rejoiced  that  he  did  not  suspect  that  I  still  cherished 
the  dream  which  had  long  since  faded  from  his  re- 
collection. So  the  weary  years  passed,  and  here  am 
1,  in  the  prime  of  life,  looking  back  with  vain  regrets 
into  the  past,  and  shrinking  from  the  future. — Oh ! 
if  I  could  but  die  !"  she  exclaimed,  passionately,  "  and 
yet  I  fear  to  die, — alas  !  alas ! — I  am  fit  neither  for 
life  nor  death,"  and  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Gently  Esther  approached  her,  and  passing  her  arm 
tenderly  around  Margaret's  waist,  whispered,  "  Dear 
Margaret,  do  not  repulse  me, — I  pity  you,  and  love 
you  from  my  heart — forgive  me  for  my  harsh  words. 
Oh,  how  much  pain  we  might  have  been  spared,  had 
I  known  your  true  character  before  ;  but  now  that  I 
do  understand  you,  we  will  love  each  other  shall  we 
not?" 

Margaret  did  not  reply,  but  she  allowed  her  head  to 
rest  on  Esther's  bosom,  while  Ettie  continued:  "You 
will  yet  be  happy ;  there  is  a  bright  future  in  store 


THK    STKI'-MOTHKR.  31 

for  you  ; — how  much  joy  you  can  bring  to  the  hearts 
of  the  sick  and  sorrowing ! — Your  past  sorrows  will 
enable  you  to  sympathise  with  the  sad,  and  your 
higher  nature  will  come  forth  purified,  from  the  trials 
through  which  you  have  passed.  Do  not  give  way 
to  despair  !  Kise,  and  in  endeavoring  to  make  others 
happy,  you  will  yourself  find  peace." 

"  Alas  !  dear  Esther,  it  is  too  late,"  replied  Marga- 
ret. 

"  Too  late !"  repeated  Esther,  "  oh  no  !  do  not  say 
so ;  you  are  young,  and  though  all  now  seems  dreary 
to  you,  if  you  will  but  look  around  you,  and  try  to  pro- 
mote the  welfare  of  others,  you  will  have  no  time  for 
repining; — oh,  Margaret,"  she  continued,  "there  is 
no  cure  for  sadness  like  employment." 

"Employment!  and  how  shall  I  busy  myself?" 
asked  Margaret. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Esther,  anxious  to  withdraw 
her  mother  from  the  contemplation  of  her  sorrows ; 
"  there  is  something  to  be  done  here ;  for  you  know," 
said  she,  while  tears  rose  to  her  eyes,  "  that  this  house 
and  furniture  are  no  longer  ours.  I  know  that  you 
will  agree  with  me,  in  wishing  my  father's  name  to 
be  unsullied,  even  if  nothing  remains  to  us.  All 
must  be  given  up,  and  we  must  leave  this  home  to 
strangers  !" 

"  You  have  judged  me  aright,  Esther,"  replied 
Margaret ;  "  I  am  as  anxious  as  you  can  be,  that  every 
debt  of  my  husband's  may  be  discharged,  that  no 
stain  may  rest  on  his  honor.  Let  us  at  once  give  up 
all,  and  then  we  will  go  together  to  1113-  father's  home." 


32  NOW-A-DAY8. 

"  No,  Margaret,"  replied  Esther,  "  I  have  already 
made  my  arrangements  for  the  future,  and  my  place 
is  quite  a  different  one — I  cannot  go  with  you." 

"  Not  go  with  me  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hastings ;  "  oh  ! 
do  not  say  so ! — you  cannot  be  serious  ! — I  shall  need 
you  so  much,  for  I  know  myself  too  well.  Let  me 
make  ever  so  good  resolutions,  I  cannot  keep  them 
without  assistance,  and  if  you  leave  me  alone  I  shall 
never  rise  from  my  selfish  sorrowings — never." 

"I  must  leave  you,  Margaret,"  repeated  Esther, 
"  but  not  alone — Your  own  words  show  me  plainly 
my  duty — If  with  you,  I  fear  that  you  might  rely  on 
my  puny  assistance ;  while,  without  me,  you  will  at 
once  seek  aid  from  Him  who  alone  can  give  strength 
to  our  weak  endeavors.  Look  to  our  Saviour,  dearest, 
to  him  who  knows  our  weakness,  who  is  touched  with 
the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  for  he  has  felt  the 
same." 

"  Oh,  dear  Esther !"  said  Margaret,  "  I  can  never 
feel  like  you,  that  trust  in  Jesus,  which  I  do  so  much 
need,  and  if  you  leave  me,  what  will  become  of  me?" 
But,"  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  "how  selfish  I  am  ! — I 
Lave  not  yet  asked  you  where  you  are  going !" 

"To  teach  a  school,  and  one  in  the  backwoods, 
too,"  replied  Esther.  "  I  saw  Mr.  Merrill,  our  pastor, 
to-day,  just  as  he  was  much  perplexed  about  finding 
a  teacher  to  go  up  into  the  Aroostook  country.  I  at 
once  offered  to  go.  He  stared  at  me,  and  told  me 
that  I  little  knew  what  it  was  to  go  there  ;  but  even 
after  his  vivid  description  of  backwoods  life,  I  still 


THE    STKP-MOTHER.  33 

persisted  in  my  willingness  to  go,  and  in  about  a  week 
I  shall  be  on  my  way. — But  now  good  night,  Marga- 
ret, for  it  is  very  late,  and  you  need  rest,  as  well  as 
I."  She  kissed  the  brow  of  her  step-mother,  and, 
urging  her  to  seek  her  couch  soon,  left  her. 


2* 


• 


CHAPTEK  HI. 

PLANS   FOB   THE   FUTURE. 

THE  morning  sun  shining  brightly  into  Esther's 
room  woke  her  from  her  sound  slumber,  and  glancing 
at  her  watch,  which  was  placed  in  the  outstretched 
hand  of  a  small  marble  figure,  at  her  bedside,  she 
was  startled  to  perceive  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and 
hastily  rising,  she  dressed  herself  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble, and  descended  to  the  parlor. 

On  opening  the  door,  she  saw  Mrs.  Hastings  walk- 
ing leisurely  up  and  down  the  large  apartment ;  she. 
looked  up  as  Esther  entered,  and  b£de  her  good 
morning,  adding,  "  I  fear  that,  the  late  hours  which 
we  kept  last  night  have  stolen  the  roses  from  your 
cheeks,  for  you  are  looking  quite  pale  this  morning. 
I  hope  that  your  appetite  has  not  gone  with  the  roses ; 
at  any  rate,  I  shall  do  justice  to  the  breakfast. — Ring 
the  bell,  Esther,  if  you  will,  for  my  long  walk  up  and 
down  these  rooms  has  quite  sharpened  my  appetite. 
I  compute  that  1  have  walked  two  miles,  at  least,  be- 
fore you  made  you  appearance." 

"  I  imagine  that  your  sleep  was  very  refreshing," 
replied  Esther,  as  she  obeyed  Mrs.  Hastings'  request, 


PLANS   FOR   THE   FUTURE.  35 

and  rang  the  bell ;  "  for  you  are  looking  very  bright 
and  cheerful" 

"  On  the  contrary,"  returned  Margaret,  "  I  spent 
the  greater  part  of  the  night  in  forming  plans  for  the 
future,  and  picturing  myself,  as  Lady  Bountiful,  vis- 
iting the  dwellings  of  the  poor,  making  gruel,  washing 
dirty  little  faces,  and  combing  refractory  hair  «11  un- 
used to  intruding  combs — all  very  fine  to  dream  of  in 
the  lone  midnight  hours,  but  how  one's  romantic  whims 
melt  into  thin  air  before  the  morning  sun.  I  arranged 
my  hair  in  simple  fashion  this  morning,  and  dressed 
as  much  as  possible  in  suitable  costume  to  try  the 
effect,  and  find  it  quite  becoming ;  still,"  she  a^dded, 
placing  her  hand  on  Esther's  shoulder,  and  approach- 
ing a  mirror,  "  I  do  not  think  the  style  of  dress  par- 
ticularly adapted  to  my  style  of  beauty.  What  do 
you  say  ?  Do  I  look  like  a  sister  of  charity  ?" 

Esther  could  not  help  smiling,  as  she  gazed  at  the 
picture  reflected  there,  Margaret's  luxuriant  hair  was 
indeed  knotted'  simply,  yet  displaying  its  abundance  ; 
her  black  dress,  open  from  the  throat  to  the  waist, 
heightened  by  contrast  tlje  clearness  and  brilliancy  of 
her  complexion ;  a  cambric  handkerchief  lay  in 
smooth  folds  over  her  bosom.  Her  dress  was  emi- 
nently calculated  to  set  off  the  beauty  of  her  figure, 
which  was  almost  faultless  in  its  proportions,  and  a 
sort  of  pride,  a  delight  in  her  own  loveliness,  lighted 
up  her  dark  eyes. 

Margaret  was  not  vain,  she  was  too  proud  for  that. 
But  she  well  knew  that  she  was  richly  endowed  with 
beauty,  which  not  only  consisted  in  regularity  of  fea- 
» 


36  NOW-A-DAl  8. 

tures,  but  in  a  rare  brilliancy  of  expression,  which 
was  more  readily  felt  than  described. 

Her  eyes  betrayed  the  fiery  impetuosity  of  her  cha- 
racter, though  at  times,  veiled  by  her  long  eyelashes, 
there  was  a  softness  in  their  depths,  that  spoke  of  ten- 
derness, and  was  even  more  attractive  than  their  gen- 
eral expression. 

Her  forehead,  white,  broad,  and  low,  with  its 
arched  and  delicately  marked  eyebrows,  would  have 
delighted  an  artist ;  but  her  cheek,  round  and  full, 
with  its  delicate  bloom,  her  small  mouth,  displaying 
in  her  frequent  smiles  her  pearly  teeth,  and  her  fair 
and  dimpled  chin,  would  have  required  no  artist's 
quickened  perception  of  the  beautiful,  to  be  admired 
by  all. 

Her  head  was  set  upon  her  neck  in  that  graceful 
way  which,  though  often  described  in  story,  is  so 
rarely  seen  in  real  life.  It  gave  a  somewhat  hanghty 
expression  to  her  whole  carriage ;  and,  in  fact,  there 
was  an  air  about  her  whole  person,  that,  beautiful  as 
she  was,  would  have  repelled  the  fulsome  compliments 
that  flattering  danglers  so  often  thrust  upon  their  dis- 
gusted listeners. 

Margaret  was  not  lovely,  she  was  an  elegant  and 
beautiful  woman  ;  and  as  she  was  fully  conscious  of 
this,  she  did  not  wish  to  be  reminded  of  it  continually ; 
and  the  expression  of  scorn,  which  at  times  played 
round  her  beautiful  mouth,  was  the  true  exponent  of 
her  feelings. 

Woe  to  the  luckless  wight  who,  hoping  to  please, 
should  descend  to  the  common-places  of  flattery,  or 


PLANS   FOR   THE    FUTTJKE.  37 

dare  to  give  to  his  admiration  the  name  of  love.  Full 
often  had  she  administered  to  such  individuals  such 
scathing  rebukes,  that,  like  the  moth,  who,  lured  by 
its  brilliancy,  flies  through  the  blaze  of  the  candle, 
they  too  have  learned,  that  pain  and  annihilation 
must  be  the  penalty  of  their  venture. 

Some  such  thoughts  as  these  passed  through  Esther's 
mind.  "  I  must  say,"  replied  she,  "  that  at  this  mo- 
ment you  more  nearly  resemble  a  tragedy  queen." 

"  No,  Miss  Esther,  I  am  neither  a  nun  nor  a  tragedy 
queen,  yet  I  feel  that  I  shall  reign  over  a  broad  do- 
minion ;  but  mine  is  not  the  only  beautiful  figure 
reflected  here." 

In  truth  it  was  not ;  though  seen  together,  Esther's 
quiet  loveliness  would  have  been,  perhaps,  at  first, 
likely  to  be  somewhat  obscured  by  the  more  striking 
elegance  of  her  step-mother  ;  yet  there  was  something 
in  the  quiet  serenity  of  Esther's  deep  hazel  eyes,  and 
in  the  delicacy  of  her  almost  colorless  cheek,  that  at- 
tracted the  attention,  and  led  one  to  look  more  earn- 
estly, to  see  in  what  the  charm  consisted. 

It  was  not,  certainly,  in  regularity  of  features,  for 
that  could  not  be  claimed  for  Esther.  Her  brown 
silky  hair  was  indeed  beautiful,  and  the  simple  way 
in  which  it  was  looped  up  from  her  face  was  extremely 
becoming ;  her  teeth  were  fine,  her  complexion  clear, 
though  dark ;  but  it  was  the  expression  of  her  face 
which  gave  to  it  its  chief  charm,  for  every  passing 
thought  and  fleeting  emotion  was  pictured  in  that  fresh 
young  face. 

Her  figure  was  slight,  but  yet  there  was  a  repose  of 


38  NOW-A-1UYS. 

manner,  a  quiet  dignity  about  her,  which  made  one 
forget  this  defect,  if  it  might  be  called  one,  since  her 
form  was  well-proportioned  and  symmetrical.  She 
and  Margaret  were  indeed  a  perfect  contrast  to  each 
other. 

Both  were  peculiarly  American  in  their  styles  of 
beauty ;  but  in  Margaret,  the  spirit  of  beauty  which 
pervades  the  majestic  forests,  the  deep  thundering 
waterfalls,  and  the  wild  rugged  mountains,  seemed  to 
dwell ;  while  Esther's  loveliness  reminded  one  of  the 
deep,  silent  vallej'S  and  sleeping  lakes  that  dot  our 
beautiful  native  land. 

Margaret  seemed  formed  to  be  admired,  Esther  to 
be  loved.  Margaret's  proper  sphere  was  in  the  glit- 
tering halls  of  fashion,  Esther's  in  the  quiet  home- 
circle,  by  the  cheerful  fireside.  Margaret  was  a  bril- 
liant gem,  sparkling  and  radiant,  which  one  might  be 
proud  to  display  to  the  whole  world,  Esther  a  simple 
wild  flower,  to  be  loved  and  cherished  in  retirement. 
And  as  the  triumphant  smile,  which  gleamed  on  Mar- 
garet's face  as  she  gazed  on  her  rare  beauty,  seemed 
but  to  lend  to  it  a  new  charm,  so  the  deep  blush  that 
mantled  Esther's  cheek  with  its  warm  glow,  but  in- 
creased her  loveliness. 

"  Do  not  blush,  child,"  said  Margaret,  "  beauty  is 
not  a  merit,  but  a  gift,  in  which  we  should  rejoice. 
Ah!  John  enters  to  announce  breakfast,  and  I  will 
postpone  my  address  to  a  future  period." 

Mrs.  Hastings  chatted  pleasantly  during  breakfast, 
on  various  subjects;  and  as  Esther  looked  at  her,  ra- 
diant in  beauty  and  smiles,  she  could  hardly  realize 


PLANS    FOR   TIIK    FUTURE.  39 

that  she  was  the  same  being,  whom,  the  night  before, 
she  had  endeavored  to  cheer,  in  gloom  and  sorrow. 

Something  of  her  feelings  Margaret  probably  read 
in  her  expressive  countenance ;  for,  as  they  reentered 
the  parlor,  she  said,  "  I  suppose  you  will  soon  be  ready 
to  accompany  me  to  my  father's  home,  for  no  doubt 
your  whim  of  school-teaching  has,  in  company  with 
its  kindred,  my  visions,  passed  away.  You  see  as  I 
do,  that  it  is  not  your  proper  sphere.  Do  not  be 
afraid  to  go  with  me,  for  I  promise  not  to  weary  you 
with  a  repetition  of  last  night's  performances.  There 
are  hours  in  the  life  of  every  one,  when  we  give  way 
to  gloomy  feelings,  and  talk  and  think  of  the  future, 
as  if  we  hoped  for  no  happiness.  It  is  weak  and  fool- 
ish. You  have  seen  me  thus  once.  If  I  had  thus  ex- 
posed myself  to  any  other  person  I  should  despise 
myself ;  but  I  feel  sure  that  you  will  not  take  advan- 
tage of  my  weakness.  I  hope  that  you,  like  a  sensible 
girl,  have  decided  to  go  home  with  me ;  for  I  feel 
very  much  attached  to  you,  and  can  not  have  you 
leave  me." 

"  I  shall  indeed  regret  leaving  you,"  answered  Es- 
ther, "  but  my  decision  remains  the  same.  I  shall  go 
and  teach  as  I  have  promised.  You  are  right,"  she 
continued,  "  in  thinking  that  what  you  are  now  pleas- 
ed to  term  your  weakness,  has  not  lessened  you  in  my 
opinion ;  so  far  from  that,  in  it  I  recognize  your  true 
nobility  of  character,  which  will  assert  itself,  even 
though  you  try  so  hard  to  keep  it  down.  Do  not,  I  beg 
of  you,  thus  wrong  yourself !  Let  your  high  and  noble 
nature  act  unrestrained  !  Cultivate  instead  of  repress- 


40  NOW  A-BAYS. 

ing  your  longings  after  the  good  and  true  in  life ! 
Oh  !  dear  Margaret,"  she  continued,  "  you  who  might 
do  so  much  good  in  the  world,  give  your  heart  to  the 
Saviour,  and  devote  your  talents  to  his  service. 

"  Do  not  go  into  heroics,  little  Ettie,"  said  Margaret, 
parting  her  hair  and  kissing  her  brow,  "  you  are  a 
dear  good  girl,  and  though  we  do  not  agree,  yet  you 
are  so  terribly  in  earnest  that  I  love  you  the  better  for 
it.  I  wish  I  did  feel  as  you  do ;  but  my  path  in  life 
is  already  marked  out.  Since  you  will  have  it  so,  we 
must  separate.  Take  your  own  way,  and  let  me  go  in 
mine.  Still  let  me  hope  that  you  will  love  me  a  little, 
even  if  we  must  disagree,"  she  whispered,  "  for  my 
heart  yearns  towards  yon,"  and  she  drew  Esther  to  her 
bosom  and  kissed  her  repeatedly.  "  Shall  we  not  love 
each  other  ?"  she  continued. 

"  Always,"  replied  Esther,  warmly  ;  "  and  we  will 
hope  to  meet  again." 

A  few  moments  Margaret  held  Esther  in  her  warm 
embrace,  then  releasing  her,  exclaimed  with  a  light 
laugh,  "  we  are  getting  quite  sentimental,  and  we  have 
no  time  to  waste  thus.  I  shall  leave  all  business  here 
to  Mr.  Phelps.  A  few  hours  more,  and  I  suppose  the 
hammer  of  the  auctioneer  will  resound  here.  Let  us 
now  descend  to  the  realities  of  packing  trunks,  and  the 
like  prosaic  duties,"  she  said  as  they  left  the  room 
together. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ON   THE   WAY. 

"  WHAT  rapid  changes  have  taken  place  within  a 
few  weeks  in  my  life,"  thought  Esther,  as  she  sprang 
into  the  wagon,  which,  waiting  at  Mr.  Merrill's  door, 
was  to  bear  her  to  her  new  home  as  school-teacher. 
"I  should  hardly  have  realized  that  I  was  so  soon  to 
change  my  place  as  pupil  for  that  of  teacher."^ 
Thoughts  of  the  loss  which  she  had  sustained  in  the 
death  of  her  father  rushed  over  her,  and  a  choking 
sensation  in  her  throat  warned  her  that  she  must  con- 
trol her  emotion. 

She  drew  back  her  veil,  and  looked  around  her, 
determined  to  withdraw  her  mind  from  her  own  self. 

It  was  a  lovely  day  in  October.  The  trees  were 
arrayed  in  their  most  gorgeous  hues,  reminding  Esther 
of  the  beauty  which  Consumption  lends  to  its  victim 
just  before  death.  Beautiful  as  was  the  scenery,  she 
felt  that  in  her  present  state  of  mind,  she  had  better 
think  of  something  else,  and  turning  to  her  compan- 
ion, she  made  some  casual  remark  on  the  weather. 

"  Wall !  it  is  pooty  fair,"  replied  Mr.  Simpson,  a 
large-framed  and  coarse-featured  backwoodsman ; 


4:2  NOW-A-DAY3. 

"  pooty  fair,"  he  repeated,  "but  the  roads  is  bad,  as 
you'll  find  to  your  sorrow,  I  guess,  afore  we  git 
home." 

"  It  seems  pretty  good  travelling  here,"  replied  Es- 
ther, looking  at  the  smooth  hard  road  over  which  they 
were  passing. 

"  Oh,  yes !  tolerable  here,  but  the  teams  has  cut  up 
the  roads  dreadful  bad,  I  tell  ye,  but  'taint  nothin  to 
what  it  was  when  I  first  went  to  the  Aroostook 
country." 

"  How  long  ago  was  that  ? "  asked  Esther. 

"  Oh !  ten  year  ago.  You  see  I  had  got  pooty 
much  run  down,  and  lied  a  wife  and  five  children  on 
my  hands,  so  I  laid  awake  many  a  night  contrivin 
what  to  do,  and  at  last  says  I,  wife,  I  tell  ye  I've  made 
»up  my  mind  to  go  up  to  the  Aroostick.  All  she  said 
was,  When  shall  you  go  ?  Eight  oif,  says  I,  and  I  was 
as  good  as  my  word.  We  packed  up  what  we  had, 
and  that  didn't  take  us  long,  and  started  for  the  new 
country.  I  had  been  up  and  looked  out  a  place,  and 
as  pooty  a  ridge  of  land  as  you'd  want  to  see.  There 
wa'nt  but  one  house  there,  that  was  a  log  one,  and 
folks  was  a  livin  in  it.  My  old  woman  looked  rather 
blank  when  she  see  the  accommodations — only  two 
rooms, — and  we  was  going  to  board  there  till  I  could 
git  a  house  built.  I  went  to  work  and  worked  hard, 
and  my  wife,  as  good  a  one  as  ever  man  hed,  helped 
me,  and  now  we  are  doin  well,  and  nery  one  on  us 
haint  never  been  sorry  that  we  come  to  the  Aroostick. 
We  haint  hed  no  very  good  schools,  but  now  we  are 
goin  to  hev  one  steddy  six  months  in  the  year.  But 


ON    THE    WAT.  43 

here  we  are  to  Wilkins's,  and  I'll  jist  water  my  horse. 
I  guess  you'd  better  get  out,  and  go  in  to  rest  ye  a 
little." 

Esther  obeyed,  and  stepped  into  the  parlor,  in  which 
was  a  rag  carpet,  several  painted  wooden  chairs,  a 
rocking-chair,  and  a  table,  over  which  hung  a  glass. 
Pictures  of  various  Marys,  Augustas,  and  one  of  Gen- 
eral Jackson,  adorned  the  walls.  Upon  the  table  lay 
one  or  two  books,  the  Bible,  an  odd  volume  of  Thad- 
deus  of  Warsaw,  and  several  Daguerreotypes. 

Almost  as  soon  as  Esther  was  seated,  a  door  opened, 
and  a  woman  entered.  She  was  very  tall  and  dark  ; 
her  short  black  hair  fell  in  rather  a  disordered  state 
over  her  sharp  features;  her  black  eyes  were  particu- 
larly keen  and  piercing,  and  at  one  quick  glance 
seemed  to  take  account  both  of  Esther's  person  and 
apparel ;  her  mouth  was  large,  and  displayed  when 
open  an  uneven  and  not  particularly  white  set  of 
teeth,  which  were  evidently  intended  more  for  use 
than  ornament;  her  dress  was  on  the  principle  so  often 
insisted  on  by  books  of  fashion,  adapted  to  the  style 
of  the  wearer,  for  it  was  of  coarse  material,  ill-fitting, 
and  bearing  marks  of  having  had  little  labor  bestowed 
on  it,  either  in  its  making,  or,  having  been  finished,  in 
keeping  it  clean  ;  it  was  short,  and  her  sleeves  were 
rolled  up,  leaving  her  arms  bare.  She  wiped  her 
hands,  which  were  wet,  with  her  apron,  and  apologiz- 
ed for  her  appearance,  by  saying  that  she  was  "  cleanin 
house." 

Esther  made  no  reply,  nor  did  the  good  woman 


44  NOW  A-DATS. 

seem  to  expect  one,  for  she  continued,  "  How  fur  be 
ye  goin  ? " 

"  I  believe  it  is  to  be  Umcolcns,  No.  9,  6th  Eange," 
replied  Esther. 

"  Lord !  I  know  who  ye  be !  yon're  the  school-marm 
that  Simpson  went  arter,  haint  you  ? " 

"  I  presume  I  am,"  replied  Ettie. 

"  Wall,  ye  don't  look  very  stout,  be  ye  well  ? " 

"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you,"  returned  Esther,  and 
turned  to  the  table,  taking  up  a  book,  wishing  to 
avoid  further  conversation ;  but  it  was  of  no  avail. 
Mrs.  Wilkins,  for  this  was  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
looked  curiously  at  Esther's  dress,  inquiring — 

"  If  this  was  the  latest  fashion  for  making  sleeves  ? 
Wall,  I  declare,  it  is  funny,  makes  a  great  deal  of 
washin.  Where  did  you  git  this?"  she  continued, 
drawing  Esther's  watch  from  her  pocket ;  "  a  present 
from  your  beau  ?" 

"  No,  it  was  given  me  by  my  father." 

"  Wall,  where  is  your  father?" 

A  flood  of  tears  was  Esther's  only  reply. 

The  good  woman  seemed  sorry,  but  merely  saying, 
"  Then  it's  him  you're  in  mournin  for,''  turned  and 
looked  out  of  the  window. 

"Simpson's  ready,"  she  exclaimed,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment Mr.  Simpson  himself  stood  in  the  door,  whip  in 
hand,  saying,  "  All  ready,  Miss  Hastings.  What's 
the  trouble?''  he  asked  of  Mrs.  Wilkins,  in  a  low  tone. 

She  replied,  "  I  was  a  askin  on  her  a  few  questions 
about  her  father,  and  it  made  her  cry." 
As  they  drove  from  the  door,  Mr.  Simpson  remarked, 


OX    THK    WAY.  45 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  all  the  Aroostick  folks  is  like 
Miss  Wilkins.  She  is  the  peekinest,  meddlinest,  tat- 
tlinest  creetur  that  ever  I  see." 

Such  a  string  of  superlatives  made  Esther  smile  in 
spite  of  herself;  and  naturally  cheerful,  she  soon  re- 
covered her  good  spirits. 

Mr.  Simpson  talked  almost  unceasingly  for  a  while, 
seeming,  to  Esther's  great  relief,  to  expect  no  reply, 
except  an  occasional  monosyllable,  until  at  length  he 
subsided  into  a  low  whistle,  or  some  few  words  to  his 
horse. 

It  was  now  nearly  noon,  and  the  rough  road  had 
given  Esther  quite  an  appetite  ;  she  was  therefore 
rather  glad  to  see,  a  little  before  them,  on  a  hill,  a 
sign-board,  which  indicated  that  here  they  might  find 
good  cheer. 

"  That's  a  first  rate  tavern,"  remarked  Mr.  Simp- 
son ;  '•  I'll  bait  my  horse  there,  and  we'll  git  some 
.  dinner." 

The  horse  seemed  to  know  that  he  was  approaching 
good  quarters,  for  he  quickened  his  pace  without  the 
reminder  of  the  whip,  and  soon  they  reached  the  door 
of  the  house. 

It  was  a  large  two-storied  house,  painted  red,  and  a 
piazza  ran  across  the  front ;  on  this  a  group  of  men, 
whose  red  shirts  betokened  them  lumbermen,  was 
standing.  Some  were  smoking,  but  the  greater  part 
were  leaning  against  the  wooden  posts  of  the  piazza, 
chewing  tobacco,  and  talking  of  the  need  of  rain. 
They  all  stared  at  Esther  as  she  alighted  from  the 


46  NOW-A-DAYS. 

wagon,  and  as  she  passed  them  she  heard  one  say, 
"  Euther  a  pooty  gal." 

"  Looks  wall  enough,"  replied  another,  replacing  the 
quid  of  tobacco  which  he  had  discarded  with  a  fresh 
one,  "  but  them  haint  the  kind  to  suit  me :  give  me 
one  real  hearty,  smart,  rosy -cheeked  gal,  before  twenty 
of  your  pale,  citytied  ones,  I  say." 

"Wall,  Simpson,  how  are  ye?"  said  the  landlord, 
as  the  former  entered  the  bar-room. 

"  O,  I'm  so  as  to  be  -around,  but  when  dinner  comes 
you'll  find  me  to  be  consumptive,  I'm  afeard." 

The  dinner-bell  soon  rang,  and  a  very  substantial 
repast  was  spread  upon  the  table.  It  would  have  sur- 
prised one,  less  accustomed  than  Esther  to  backwoods' 
life,  to  see  tea  and  preserves  at  dinner,  but  she  found, 
that  however  ungenteel  and  unseasonable,  both  tasted 
remarkably  well.  She  felt  quite  refreshed  after  din- 
ner was  over,  and  hoped  to  set  out  again  at  once  ;  but 
Mr.  Simpson  said  "  the  horse  hadn't  eat  his  oats  yet, 
and  she  must  wait  a  while."  So  he  returned  to  the 
bar-room,  and  she  sat  alone  in  the  parlor.  Here  she 
noticed  an  old  piano  (rather  an  unusual  piece  of  fur- 
niture) and  a  book-case ;  the  latter,  however,  was 
locked.  She  read  through  the  glass  doors  some  of  the 
titles,  and  found  Rollin's  Ancient  History,  Clarissa 
Ihirlowe,  Scott's  Commentaries,  and  a  French  gram- 
mar and  dictionary,  among  the  number.  Finding  it 
impossible  to  get  at  the  contents  of  the  case,  she 
seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  played  a  lively  air. 
She  had  hardly  played  a  march,  when  a  noise  caused 
her  to  look  around,  and  she  was  surprised  to  see  seve- 


OX    THE    WAY.  47 

ral  heads  thrust  in  at  the  door ;  and  as  she  stopped, 
one  man  called  out — 

"  That's  fust  rate,  go  on ;  it's  been  a  good  while 
since  I  heerd  that  are  planner  talk  like  that." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  but  concluded  to  comply 
with  his  request;  and  as  she  commenced  again  she 
noticed  a  middle-aged  woman  standing  by  her  side, 
who  exclaimed,  in  a  broken  voice,  as  Esther  struck  a 
few  chords  of  a  waltz,  "  That's  one  that  our  Liza  Ann 
played ;"  and  raising  her  hand  she  wiped  her  eyes. 

Esther  left  the  piano,  the  audience  retreated  from 
the  door,  and  the  good  woman  seated  herself  by  her 
side. 

"  Poor  Lizzie,"  said  she,  as  if  thinking  aloud,  "  How 
she  used  to  love  to  play  on  that !  Them's  most  all 
her  books."  She  went  on,  as  she  noticed  that  Esther 
glanced  at  the  book-case — "  I  keep  um  locked  up,  so 
they  needn't  get  tore  and  daubed." 

Esther  regretted  that  her  music  had  called  up, 
apparently,  a  painful  subject  to  her  companion  ;  and 
wishing  to  recall  her  from  it,  asked  her  the  usual 
question,  how  long  she  had  been  in  the  country. 

"  Oh !  nigh  about  twenty  year,"  was  the  reply. 
"  When  we  fust  come,  there  wan't  a  house  within  a  hun- 
dred mile  on  us.  We  was  oncst  pooty  well  off,  but 
my  husband  got  in  with  a  rogue,  that  cheated  him  all 
out  of  his  property,  and  I  was  too  proud  to  stay  where 
I  had  been  well  off  arter  I  got  poor,  so  I  coaxed  him 
off  here,  and  a  dreadful  hard  time  we  had  on  it  at 
fust;  but  I  didn't  care,  till  my  children  got  old 
enough  to  be  learnin  something,  and  there  warn't  no 


48  NOW-A-DAYS. 

schools  round  here.  My  folks  sent  for  my  boys,  but 
we  couldn't  spare  ura,  they  was  needed  on  the  place ; 
so  I  spent  my  evenings  learnin  urn  all  I  knew,  but  I 
let  my  only  gal  go.  It  was  hard  for  me,  but  I  knew 
it  was  better  for  her.  She  was  the  pootiest  little  cree- 
tur  that  ever  you  see,  as  lively  as  a  cricket  all  day 
long ;  and  arter  she  went,  somehow  it  seemed  as  if  the 
sunshine  went  with  her.  Her  father  missed  her  when 
he  come  home  tired,  arter  pilin  logs  all  day,  for  she 
always  used  to  comb  his  hair,  and  talk  so  pooty,  and 
I  missed  her  all  the  time.  But  I  let  her  stay  two 
year,  and  when  she  come  home,  she  had  grown  so  tall 
and  handsome  that  I  didn't  hardly  know  her.  Then 
she  had  a  mighty  kind  of  a  delicate  way  with  her,  and 
when  I  fust  see  her,  I  was  afraid  she  might  hev  got 
proud  like,  and  despise  her  old  father  and  mother; 
but  no,  her  heart  was  in  the  right  place.  She  would 
work  hard,  and  try  to  save  me,  and  she  tried  to  ap- 
pear as  happy  as  ever.  But  I  see  that  she  pined. 
She  would  play  on  that  pianner,  hours  to  a  time ;  she 
brought  it  home  with  her :  and  she  used  to  read  the 
Bible  a  monstrous  sight.  But  the  cold  winters  didn't 
seem  to  agree  with  her,  and  she  took  cold,  and  a  cough 
sot  in.  I  tried  every  thing  for  her,  but  she  didn't  git 
no  better.  One  day  says  she,  *  Mother,  dear,  I  shan't 
live  long ;  I  am  sorry  for  your  sake,  but  we  shan't  be 
parted  long.'  I  begged  her  not  to  talk  so,  and  told 
her  that  she'd  soon  git  well ;  but  she  shook  her  head, 
and  told  me  not  to  deceive  myself.  But  I  would  not 
believe  it  till  I  had  to.  She  lived  till  spring.  She 
used  to  be  very  fond  of  violets,  and  I  used  to  try  and 


ON    THE    WAY.  49 

cheer  her  up,  and  tell  her  she  would  soon  be  able  to 
go  out  and  pick  them.  '  No,  mother,'  said  she,  '  when 
the  violets  bloom,  I  shall  be  in  my  grave.' 

"  She  was  right ;  but  she  died  so  calm  and  peace- 
ful. She  told  us  all  to  meet  her  on  high  ;  and  just  as 
she  was  dying,  she  put  her  arms  around  my  neck,  and 
breathed  out,  'God  shall  wipe  all  tears  from  your 
eyes.'  These  were  her  last  words  ;  she  fell  back,  and 
died  with  a  smile  on  her  lips." 

She  ceased  talking,  and  wept  softly  and  quietly  for 
a  few  moments,  and  then  resumed. 

"  Her  death  was  a  dreadful  blow  to  me.  I  haint 
never  been  the  same  woman  since.  I  felt  as  though 
there  wan't  nothing  worth  living  for,  and  I  wanted  to 
die ;  but  folks  can't  alus  die  when  they  want  to. 
When  you  fust  come  in,  you  put  me  in  mind  of  Liza ; 
somehow  you  have  the  same  way  with  you,  though 
her  eyes  were  blue,  and  yours  are  so  dark ;  but  you 
have  the  same  sort  of  a  smile." 

Esther  was  much  touched  by  the  simple  narrative 
which  she  had  heard,  and,  taking  her  hand,  said, 
"  You  found  one  sure  and  never-failing  consolation  in 
Lizzie's  Bible,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  that  I  did.  I  read  it  fust  because 
she  loved  it  so  much,  but  arter  a  while  I  loved  it  for 
itself.  Yes,"  she  repeated,  "  I  do  hope  soon  to  meet 
my  Lizzie  in  heaven." 

Again  the  vision  of  Mr.  Simpson  appeared,  to  an- 
nounce his  readiness  to  start  on  their  journey ;  and, 
with  a  warm  pressure  of  the  hand,  Esther  left  her 
new  acquaintance, 

3 


50  KOW-A-DAY8. 

The  country  through  which  they  were  passing  ab- 
sorbed Esther's  attention,  as  it  was  her  first  visit  to  the 
backwoods  of  Maine.  At  last  she  said  to  Mr.  Simp- 
son, "  I  do  not  see  so  many  of  those  stump-fences  a9 
I  expected  to." 

"  Lord  bless  ye  !  stump-fences  !  no,  indeed.  This  is 
too  new  country  for  them.  Why  they  have  to  rot,  so 
as  to  be  hauled  up,  and  that  takes  time." 

"  I  think  they  make  a  handsome  fence,"  remarked 
Esther. 

"  Yes,  they  do  so.  Critters  can't  get  through  urn, 
no  how." 

"  It  must  take  a  great  while  to  clear  up  these  lands," 
musingly  said  Esther. 

"  That  it  does,  and  a  lot  of  hard  work  too,"  replied 
her  companion.  "  Fust  you  cut  down  these  great 
trees,  that's  a  job,  I  tell  you ;  then  set  um  afire,  unless 
the  fire  has  run  through  the  woods  afore.  That's 
what  we  call  a  fell  piece.  There's  one  now,"  he  con- 
tinued, pointing  with  his  whip  to  a  larger  tract  of 
land,  where  trees,  blackened  by  fire,  lay  in  confused 
masses. 

"  What  next  is  done  ?"  asked  Ettie. 

Mr.  Simpson,  apparently  delighted  with  her  inte- 
rest in  a  subject  so  familiar  to  him,  went  on  :  "  AYhv, 
then  we  junk  it,  and  pile  it,  then  set  the  piles  atire 
agin.  That  makes  burnt  land.  The  stump  is  left  in 
solid  too." 

"  I  should  think  it  must  be  difficult  to  plough  such 
land,"  said  Ettie,  as  Mr.  Simpson  pointed  out  to  her 
a  specimen  of  the  field,  ready  to  be  planted. 


ON    THE    WAY.  51 

"I  guess  it  would.  Plough!"  he  ejaculated.  "I 
should  hate  to  be  the  man  to  do  that  job." 

"  How,  then,  do  you  get  in  your  crops  ?" 

"  Why,  oats  and  sich  like  we  sow,  and  then  drag  a 
bush  arter  us,  to  cover  the  seed,  and  potatoes,  and 
corn,  we  hack  in,  as  we  call  it,  with  a  hoe." 

"That  must  take  a  deal  of  time,"  replied  Esther. 

"Wall,  yes;  but  what's  time  for?  We  might  as 
well  be  diggin  there,  as  doin  anything  else ;  and  the 
land  pays  well  for  the  hard  work  we  do.  Burnt  land 
is  fust  rate  for  crops." 

The  setting  sun  warned  our  travellers  to  hasten  on 
their  way,  and  soon  Mr.  Simpson  pointed  out  the  bald 
summit  of  Mount  Katahdin  to  his  companion,  with 
the  comforting  assurance  that  they  were  quite  near 
Patten. 

Soon  they  drove  up  to  a  tavern,  where  a  good  sup- 
per refreshed  them.  A  blazing  wood  fire  shone  cheer- 
fully in  the  parlor,  and  for  a  while  Esther  sat  there, 
thinking  of  the  future,  and  trying  to  imagine  what 
would  be  the  character  of  her  companions  in  her  new 
home.  But  the  fatigues  of  the  day  had  prepared  her 
to  enjoy  a  quiet  night's  rest,  and  she  sought  her  com- 
fortable chamber,  where  she  soon  forgot  all  unpleasant 
forebodings  in  sleep. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE   WORK-FIELD   REACHED. 

THE  next  morning  early  found  Esther  and  her  com- 
panion on  their  way,  and  after  a  hard  day's  riding 
they  approached  what  Mr.  Simpson  said  was  a  cross- 
road, on  entering  which,  he  told  Esther  that  they  had 
only  seven  miles  to  go  before  they  reached  home. 
But  such  a  seven  miles !  A  plough  had  never  been 
through  here,  she  was  informed,  and  readily  believed, 
for  stumps  and  stones  of  large  size  lay  directly  in 
the  middle  of  the  way  ;  and  if  Esther  had  not  been 
pretty  courageous  she  might  have  feared  an  overturn. 

The  path  seemed  to  her  quite  difficult  to  follow, 
and  several  openings,  through  which  she  had  imagined 
that  they  must  go,  her  companion  informed  her  were 
logging  roads,  used  only  in  the  winter,  and  pointed 
out  to  her  one  or  two  fallen  trees,  which  were  in- 
tended as  warnings  to  travellers  not  to  enter  there. 
They  had,  however,  gone  over  so  many  trees,  which 
Mr.  Simpson  had  told  her  were  "  windfalls,"  that  she 
had  not  supposed  these  were  placed  there  intention- 
ally. Her  companion  informed  her  that  one  of  these 
roads  led  into  a  poke  hogin,  which  he  further  ex- 
plained, as  a  sort  of  quagmire,  very  easy  to  get  into, 
but  very  difficult  to  leave. 


THE  WORK-FIKLD  REACHED.  53 

The  tall  trees  made  the  road  seem  very  gloomy,  and 
the  two  hours  which  it  took  to  pass  through  this  cross 
road  seemed  very  long  to  Esther ;  and  she  rejoiced 
with  her  companion,  when  he  pointed  out  to  her  a 
house,  situated  on  a  little  hill,  as  his  home.  The 
lights  which  streamed  from  the  windows  seemed  invi- 
ting them  to  hasten,  and  offering  them  welcome,  and 
soon  they  halted  before  the  door. 

Loud  shouts  of  "  Father's  come !  Father's  come  !" 
were  heard,  as  a  troop  of  boys,  of  various  sizes,  rushed 
out,  on  hearing  Mr.  Simpson's  sonorous  "  whoa  !" 

The  greeting  which  the  new  comers  received  in- 
doors was  equally  cordial,  and  Mrs.  Simpson,  with  the 
assistance  of  a  tall,  awkward-looking  girl,  whom  she 
called  Elvira,  soon  had  a  smoking-hot  supper  prepared 
for  them. 

Esther  was  really  very  much  fatigued,  and  her 
rough  ride  had  given  her  an  appetite,  so  that  she 
readily  agreed  with  Mr.  Simpson,  who  declared  him- 
self "  as  hungry  as  a  bear,"  and  in  thinking  it  a  very 
nice  supper. 

Meanwhile  the  children  kept  running  backwards 
and  forwards,  from  the  kitchen  to  the  parlor  (for  these 
were  the  only  apartments  on  the  first  floor),  peeping 
curiously  at  Miss  Hastings,  and  occasionally  breaking 
into  a  low  giggle  outside  of  the  door. 

"  Young  uns,  go  to  bed  1"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Simpson, 
as  she  nearly  stumbled  over  the  youngest,  Sammy,  as 
he  was  called.  "You'll  be  the  death  of  me  yet! 
They  fly  round  like  a  hen  with  her  head  cut  off,"  she 
continued,  to  her  husband ;  who  replied,  "  Oh,  wall, 


54  NOW-A-DAY8. 

young  uns  must  be  young  uns ;  taint  no  use  trying  to 
make  old  men  and  women  on  urn." 

Supper  was  soon  over,  and  the  dishes  washed,  for 
the  latter  was  speedily  accomplished  by  Mrs.  Simp- 
son and  her  brisk  assistant,  Elvira,  and  they  seated 
themselves  before  the  large  fire-place,  where  huge 
logs  of  wood  were  crackling,  with  a  pleasant,  cheerful 
sound. 

"  "Wall,  you  look  most  beat  out,  Miss  Hastings,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Simpson ;  "  p'raps  you  want  to  go  to 
bed  ?" 

Esther  replied,  that  she  was  indeed  very  tired ;  and 
Elvira  at  once  arose,  lighted  a  tallow  candle,  which 
reposed  in  an  iron  candlestick,  and  signified  her  readi- 
ness to  show  Esther  her  chamber. 

Bidding  the  family  good-night,  they  were  ascending 
a  flight  of  stairs,  when  Mrs.  Simpson  called  after  them, 
"  to  be  sure  and  put  the  light  out." 

The  staircase  led  into  an  unfinished  chamber,  where 
several  beds  were  made  upon  the  floor,  and  loud 
breathing  denoted  that  they  were  already  occupied. 
They  passed  silently  along  to  the  farther  end  of  the 
apartment,  where  was  a  thin  partition ;  a  patchwork 
quilt  formed  the  door,  which  Elvira  lifted,  and  they 
entered. 

The  room  was  unfinished,  the  boards  of  the  floor 
rattled  under  their  tread,  and  the  light  revealed  raft- 
ers overhead ;  a  strip  of  rag  carpeting  was  laid  before 
the  bed,  which,  with  a  few  chairs,  a  rickety  wash- 
stand,  and  a  small  table,  over  which  hung  a  cracked 
looking-glas*,  comprised  the  furniture  of  the  chamber. 


THE  WORK-FIJ:LD  REACHED.  55 

Esther  was  about  to  bid  her  companion  good-night, 
but  saw  that  she  was  preparing  to  sleep  with  her ;  and 
as  she  well  knew  that  a  request  to  be  allowed  a  bed 
alone  would  only  be  set  down  as  pride,  and  feeling 
herself  above  her  companion,  she  said  not  a  word. 

Elvira  was  soon  snugly  ensconced  in  bed,  and  her 
curious  black  eyes  watched  closely  all  Esther's  move- 
ments. Such  close  scrutiny  was  rather  unpleasant, 
and  Esther  hesitated  for  a  moment,  whether  to  kneel 
in  prayer  before  retiring ;  but,  despising  herself,  she 
did  so,  and  after  her  devotions  were  concluded,  as  she 
was  about  to  extinguish  the  candle,  Elvira  exclaimed, 
"  Don't  blow  the  light  out,  put  it  out." 

"That  was  what  I  was  going  to  do,"  replied  Esther. 

"  No !  no  !"  repeated  Elvira ;  "  set  it  outside  of  the 
quilt  for  Miss  Simpson  ;  she'll  be  up  arter  it  in  a  few 
minutes." 

Esther  did  as  she  was  requested,  and  once  in  the 
good,  comfortable  bed,  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

"  Breakfast's  most  ready !"  were  the  first  sounds 
which  greeted  Esther's  ears  the  following  morning. 
"  Hadn't  you  better  be  a  gittin  up  ?" 

"  Yes,  Elvira,"  replied  Esther,  "  I  will  be  ready  in 
a  few  moments."  She  soon  found,  however,  that  the 
washstand  was  merely  intended  for  ornament,  as  there 
was  no  water  in  the  pitcher  ;  and  as  Elvira  had  dis- 
appeared, she  was  obliged  to  defer  her  ablutions  till 
she  went  below  ;  resolving,  however,  as  Mrs.  Simpson, 
in  answer  to  her  inquiries,  pointed  her  to  the  sink  in 
the  kitchen,  that  she  would  effect  a  reform  in  this 
one  particular,  if  in  no  other. 


56  NOW-A-DAYS. 

The  table  was  already  set,  and  Esther  had  hardly 
finished  her  ablutions  when  quite  a  number  of  men, 
dressed  in  red  shirts,  entered,  headed  by  Mr.  Simp- 
son. These,  Elvira  told  her,  were  the  occupants  of 
the  beds  on  the  floor,  up  stairs,  as  they  were  on  their 
way  to  get  things  in  readiness  for  logging  operations 
in  the  winter.  They  had  come  up  timber  hunting, 
and  had  come  out  to  the  settlement  to  spend  the  night. 

All  now  sat  down  to  the  table,  upon  which  was  a 
smoking  brown  bread  loaf,  and  a  large  plate  of  pork, 
an  equally  large  plate  of  beans,  also  another  plate 
heaped  with  boiled  potatoes,  and  still  another,  filled 
with  warm  biscuits.  The  ware  was  white,  with  blue 
edges,  and  everything  looked  bright  and  clean,  except 
the  knives,  which  appeared  entirely  unacquainted 
with  brick-dust,  or  any  similar  polisher.  The  coffee 
looked  very  dark,  and  was  rather  thick.  Esther  soon 
found  that  its  dark  hue  was  not  owing  to  its  strength, 
but  to  its  having  been  sweetened  wTith  molasses ;  as 
Mrs.  Simpson  said,  she  "  alus  biled  in  a  cup  of  molas- 
ses, it  made  it  so  much  better  ;  but  she  didn't  know  as 
it  was  sweet  enough  for  Miss  Hastings,"  and  oifered 
her  the  bowl  of  molasses,  to  add  a  little  more  if  ne- 
cessary. This,  Esther  declined. 

All  at  the  table  were  now  requested,  by  Mr.  Simp- 
son, "  to  take  hold  and  help  themselves,"  which  they 
immediately  did,  helping  themselves  to  butter  with 
their  own  knives,  and  cutting  the  brown  bread  loaf 
in  the  same  manner.  Mrs.  Simpson  helped  Esther, 
telling  her  "not  to  be  bashful,  and  to  make  herself  at 
home."  With  the  exception  of  this  remark,  very  lit- 


THE   WOKK-FIELI)    BEACHED.  57 

tie  was  said  by  any  one  during  the  meal,  which  was 
speedily  dispatched. 

As  it  was  Sunday  morning,  after  breakfast  was  over, 
Esther  inquired  if  there  was  to  be  a  meeting  in  the 
vicinity. 

"  No,"  replied  Mrs.  Simpson,  "  we  don't  hev  no 
preachin,  except  Elder  Eider  onct  in  a  while,  about 
onct  in  six  weeks.  They  haint  no  stiddy  meeting  this 
side  of  Patten." 

"  I  wisht  they  was,"  remarked  Elvira,  "  for  Sunday's 
a  dreadful  long  day,  with  nothin  to  do,  and  the  men- 
folks  stragglin  round  in  the  way,  most  all  the  time." 

Sol,  the  oldest  hope  of  Mr.  Simpson,  a  tall  awkward 
boy  of  nineteen,  now  entered,  saying,  "  Yirey,  where's 
my  fishin  line  ?" 

"  How  do  you  spose  I  know,"  responded  Elvira, 
rather  tartly  ;  "  you're  always  leavin  your  traps  round. 
I  spose  I  tucked  it  into  a  box  in  the  closet." 

"  "Wall,  wall,  don't  get  mad,  and  snap  a  feller's 
head  off,"  replied  Sol,  opening  the  closet  door,  and 
soon  finding  the  missing  line. 

On  looking  out  of  the  window,  Esther  saw,  to  her 
surprise,  several  men  examining  their  guns,  and  one 
or  two  with  fish-hooks  and  lines,  as  if  preparing  for 
sport. 

"  Where  are  these  people  going  ?"  she  asked  of  El- 
vira, as  they  started  across  the  fields. 

"  Some  on  um  gunnin,  and  some  on  um  fishin," 

coolly  answered  Vira.     "  We  don't  know  much  about 

Sundays  here,"  she  continued,  seeing  Esthers  look  of 

surprise.     "  I'm  going  to  clear  up  here  a  little,"  she 

3* 


58  NOW-A-DAYS. 

went  on,  "  and  then,  if  you're  a  mind  to,  I'll  go  in  to 
some  of  the  neighbors  with  you.  Miss  Simpson  !" 
she  called  out,  "  come  in  here,  and  help  me  turn  up 
the  bed." 

Mrs.  Simpson  obeyed  the  summons;  and  to  Esther's 
surprise  (for  she  had  noticed  the  bed,  but  could  not 
imagine  what  they  were  about  to  do),  pulled  the  outer 
quilt  down  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  slowly  lifted  the 
bedstead  till  it  rested  against  the  wall,  arranging  the 
quilt  so  as  to  cover  it  quite  nicely. 

"  Didn't  you  never  see  a  turn-up  bed  afore  ?"  she 
asked  of  Esther,  who  replied  in  the  negative. 

"  Wall,  they're  mighty  convenient  things  for  folks 
that  haint  got  much  room." 

Elvira  had  soon  swept  the  apartment,  and  cleared 
up,  as  she  called  it,  a  process  which  Esther  thought 
consisted  in  tucking  everything  out  of  sight,  most  of 
them  going  into  the  box  where  Sol  had  found  his  fish- 
ing line. 

This  finished,  Elvira  again  offered  to  make  some 
neighborly  calls.  This  invitation  Miss  Hastings  de- 
clined, but  proposed  taking  a  walk  into  the  woods, 
which  were  now  in  all  the  glory  of  the  Indian  summer. 

Elvira  readily  consented,  taking  a  knife  with  her, 
as  she  said  she  wanted  to  "  get  some  broom-stuff,  for 
the  broom  she  had  now  was  a  miserable  thing,  made 
of  hemlock,  and  that  wan't  fit  for  nothin,  they  was  so 
many  sproozles.  Cedar  was  the  stuff  for  her." 

They  walked  a  short  distance  in  silence,  for  Esther 
was  absorbed  in  the  beauty  of  the  scenery.  They 
were  now  in  a  rough  road,  which  led  directly  through 


THE    WOKK-FIKLD    RKACHKD.  59 

the  forest.  The  wind  sighed  through  the  branches, 
and  the  birds  were  singing  their  pleasantest  songs; 
the  faint  drumming  of  the  partridge  was  heard  occa- 
sionally, and  the  quiet  humming  of  insects,  united 
with  these  sounds,  forming  one  of  those  delightful 
melodies  that  a  poet  has  so  beautifully  called  "Ka- 
ture's  Voluntaries." 

Crossing  a  gridiron  bridge,  as  those  rude  structures 
of  logs  are  called,  which  are  laid  in  marshy  spots,  they 
soon  came  in  full  view  of  the  Aroostook  river,  which 
flowed  gently  on,  fringed  by  almost  every  variety  of 
the  undergrowth  of  the  forest. 

A  beautiful  meadow  was  formed  there,  which  El- 
vira said  was  called  an  "  emterval"  further  explaining 
that  it  was  a  tract  of  land  which,  during  the  spring 
freshet,  was  overflowed  and  much  enriched  by  this 
temporary  deluge. 

"  So  do  the  waters  of  affliction,  flowing  over  it,  en- 
rich the  heart,"  thought  Esther,  for  it  was  a  habit  of 
her  mind  to  seek  analogies  between  the  material  and 
the  spiritual  world. 

"  Is  that  an  island  opposite  ?"  she  asked,  of  her  com- 
panion. 

"  Oh,  no ;  that's  the  main  land.  You  see  this  river 
crooks  round  like,  and  makes  what  they  call  the  ox- 
bow. We  are  in  the  ox-bow  now.  You've  seen  an 
ox-yoke,  haint  you?  so  you  know  now  what  shape  this 
ere  land  is.  Folks  say  you  can  see  Katahdin  from 
here  ;  p'raps  you  can." 

Esther  looked  fixedly  in  the  direction  indicated  by 


60  NOW-A-DAT3. 

Elvira,  and  either  saw,  or  imagined  she  did,  the  misty 
outline  of  that  high  and  snow-capped  peak. 

Her  heart  glowed  with  pride  in  her  native  State  as 
she  stood  there.  She  felt  as  if  she  would  challenge 
the  world  to  produce  a  wilder,  and  yet  more  quietly 
beautiful  scene,  than  that  on  which  she  gazed;  and 
this  was  but  one,  and  by  no  means  the  most  beautiful 
view  that  she  had  seen  in  Maine.  Here  was  all  the 
glory  of  Vermont's  forests  and  hills,  and,  added  to 
that,  the  river,  which  lends  so  much  beauty  to  any 
landscape.  The  purity  of  an  Italian  sky,  with,  if 
travellers  say  aright,  greater  and  more  beautiful 
changes. 

She  thought  of  the  rocky  shores  of  the  upper  Pe- 
nobscot,  and  its  frequent  rapids,  as  it  flows  towards 
the  sea,  gaming,  like  the  human  character,  new 
strength  from  the  obstacles  which  it  encounters ;  and, 
flowing  in  a  deeper  and  calmer  current,  ever  onward 
to  the  sea,  as  does  our  life  river  mingle  at  last  with 
eternity's  ocean. 

But  her  mind  was  recalled  from  the  various  pictures 
that  memory  was  summoning  before  her,  dissimilar  in- 
deed in  their  character,  yet  alike  in  the  silent  lessons 
of  truth  and  beauty  which  they  teach,  by  the  voice  of 
Vira,  who  asked,  abruptly,  "  Be  you  a  professor  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Esther,  who  understood  the  techni- 
cal term  which  most  of  the  backwoods  people  apply 
to  Christians. 

"  Wall,  I  thought  you  was,  when  I  see  you  kneel 
last  night,"  returned  Elvira. 

"And  do  you  never  ask  God's  protection  through 


THE  WORK-FIELD  BEACHED.  61 

the  night,  and  his  forgiveness  for  your  sins  through 
the  day  2"  asked  Esther. 

"  Wall,  no,  I  aint  apt  to,"  replied  Yira.  "  I  spose 
I'd  orter,  but  folks  don't  alus  do  as  well  as  they 
know." 

"  That  is  very  true,  Elvira,"  said  Esther ;  "  still  it  is 
no  excuse  for  us,  when  we  do  wrong,  that  others  do 
the  same.  I  hope,"  she  continued,  "  that  you  will 
begin  to  do  what  you  know  is  right,  in  this  one  thing 
at  least. 

Several  children  now  scampered  by,  looking  back 
shyly.  "Whose  children  are  those?"  asked  Miss 
Hastings. 

"  Oh !  some  on  urn's  Emery's,  and  some  on  urn's 
Haley's ;  they're  alus  racing  round,  all  over  the  lot, 
Sundays." 

Esther  made  no  reply,  but  mentally  resolved  that 
she  would  attempt  to  make  a  slight  reform  in  this 
manner  of  spending  the  Sabbath.  A  Sunday  school 
she  determined  to  establish,  if  possible  ;  and,  building 
many  a  pleasant  air-castle,  she  returned  to  the  house. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

WORK   BEGUN. 

MONDAY  morning  had  arrived,  and  Esther  was 
aroused  very  early,  by  the  loud  sounds  that  are  usu- 
ally said  to  be  accompaniments  of  that  morning  the 
world  over. 

"  It's  thump,  thump  !  and  scold,  scold  !  scold,  scold  away  1 
There  is  no  comfort  in  the  house,  upon  a  washing-day." 

Both  Elvira  and  Mrs.  Simpson  were  flying  briskly 
about  the  kitchen,  as  Miss  Hastings  entered  it,  both 
with  elf-locks  hanging  loosely  down,  and  greatly  ab- 
breviated gowns,  which  displayed  to  great  advantage 
both  their  muscular  arms  and  feet,  whose  size  would 
have  horrified  a  Chinese,  to  say  the  least ;  it  was  evi- 
dent that  "  utility  before  beauty"  had  been  the  prin- 
ciple upon  which  the  aforesaid  feet  had  been  con- 
structed. 

Mrs.  Simpson  greeted  her  guest  kindly,  and  bent 
again  over  her  wash-tubs,  sousing  the  garments  up 
and  down  in  the  white  foaming  suds,  with  a  vehe- 
mence that  seemed  well  adapted  to  test  the  strength 
of  the  fabric  of  which  they  were  made. 

"  Poke  down  them  are  clothes  over  the  fire,"  she 
exclaimed,  to  Elvira,  who  was  getting  breakfast,  and 
replied,  rather  tartly — 


WORK  BEGUN.  63 

"  Wall !  wall !  in  a  minit !  I  haint  got  six  hands, 
and  the  only  two  I've  got  is  fryin  pork  now,  and  I 
shan't  let  it  scorch  for  nobody.  Clear  out,  Sam  !"  she 
exclaimed,  in  her  turn,  to  the  youngest  of  the  flock 
of  white-headed  urchins.  "  Get  out  of  my  sight  1 
You're  alus  right  in  the  way  when  nobody  wants  ye, 
and  alus  gone,  nobody  knows  whar,  ef  ye  are  needed 
to  do  an  errand." 

Sam  made  no  reply  to  this,  but,  pulling  his  mother's 
gown,  to  attract  her  attention,  began,  in  rather  a  whim- 
pering tone,  to  ask  "  ef  breakfast  wan't  most  ready." 

"  Clear  out !"  was  the  parent's  reply,  in  not  the 
most  amiable  tone ;  "  go  long  into  t'other  room,  with 
Miss  Hastings." 

Esther  at  once  took  the  hint,  and  seated  herself  in 
the  t'other  room,  where  she  endeavored  to  interest 
Sammy.  But  he  was  very  shy,  and,  looking  very 
sheepish  and  bashful,  either  made  no  reply  to  her 
remarks,  or  in  so  low  a  tone,  that  what  he  said  was 
quite  unintelligible.  He  stayed  but  a  few  moments 
with  her,  but  escaped  again  into  the  kitchen,  where, 
as  before,  he  was  greeted  by  loud  and  angry  voices, 
which  he  seemed  to  think  a  matter  of  course,  and  to 
which  he  paid  not  the  slightest  attention. 

Breakfast  was  soon  ready,  and  nearly  as  soon  over, 
and  Esther  prepared  to  go  to  her  duties  as  teacher. 

Guided  by  Sammy,  who,  though  barefooted,  trotted 
briskly  over  the  sticks  and  stones  in  their  path,  she 
soon  reached  the  school-house.  It  was  situated  in  an 
opening,  as  a  spot  in  the  forest  cleared  of  trees'  is 
called,  where  stumps  of  large  size  were  scattered 


64  NOW-A-DAYS. 

thickly  around.  It  was  a  very  pretty  place,  for  the 
tall  primeval  forest  trees  were  standing,  not  far  dis- 
tant, in  all  their  evergreen  majesty,  while,  sprinkled 
among  them,  were  the  maple,  birch,  and  beech  trees, 
decked  in  the  fanciful  and  many-colored  robes  that 
autumn  gives  them.  The  maple,  with  its  reddish- 
yellow  tints,  the  delicate  straw-color  of  the  birch,  and 
the  deeper  yellow  of  the  thick,  clustering,  though 
smaller  leaves  of  the  beech,  gave  a  brilliancy  to  the 
deep  forest,  to  which  the  evergreens,  stately  though 
they  were,  would  have  given  rather  a  sombre  appear- 
ance, had  they  not  been  mingled  with  their  more 
graceful,  though  frailer  sisterhood. 

The  school-house  itself  was  by  no  means  the  least 
picturesque  object  in  the  scene.  It  was  not  very 
large,  and  was  built  entirely  of  logs,  piled  in  a  square 
form,  the  bark  still  on  them,  and  the  ends  sticking 
out  at  the  four  corners,  with  no  thought  of  being 
fitted  together.  The  chinksj  which  were  unavoidable, 
from  this  manner  of  building,  were  filled  with  moss 
to  keep  out  the  rain.  The  roof  was  pointed,  and  com- 
posed of  smaller  logs,  over  which  was  spread  the 
bark  of  the  hemlock.  The  windows,  which  were  com- 
posed of  but  four  panes  of  glass  each,  were  of  course 
small,  and  were  also  irregular.  The  door  was  very 
white  and  fair,  for,  owing  to  the  scarcity  of  boards 
there,  as  there  was  no  saw-mill  near,  it  had  been  split 
out  of  a  pine  log.  A  leather  string  hung  outside, 
which  Esther  pulled ;  the  wooden  latch  flew  up  on 
the  other  side,  and  she  entered  the  house. 

The  loud  shouts  of  laughter  which  resounded  from 


WOKE   BKGUN.  65 

the  school- room  had  prepared  her  to  see  many  of  her 
pupils  already  assembled  there ;  and  on  her  entrance 
there  was  a  pause,  for  all  were  curious  to  see  the  new 
mistress. 

Esther  glanced  first  at  the  group  of  scholars,  of  all 
ages  and  sizes,  collected  there ;  then  at  the  interior  of 
her  new  premises. 

It  was  equally  as  rough  as  the  exterior  had  led  her 
to  expect.  The  floor  was  of  boards,  which  were  so 
loosely  placed,  that  they  rattled  beneath  her  tread. 
The  walls  differed  only  from  the  outside,  in  having 
the  bark  hewed  oft'  from  the  logs  ;  but  the  three  large 
logs  which  ran  across  the  room,  to  support  the  roof, 
answering  the  purpose  of  beams,  were  free  from  bark 
on  the  lower  side  only.  There  was  no  ceiling  over- 
head, nothing  but  the  mere  shell  of  a  house. 

A  large  rock  chimney,  built  like  a  stone  wall,  also 
did  double  duty,  as  fireplace.  The  large  stick  of  tim- 
ber which  formed  the  boundary  line  making  known 
where  the  fireplace  ended  and  the  chimney  began, 

bore  marks  of  having  been  on  fire  at  some  time,  for  it 

w 

was  scorched  and  blackened.  A  fire  was  now  burn- 
ing, though  it  was  not  yet  very  cold  weather.  The 
wood  rested  on  two  large  rocks,  which  were  pressed 
into  service  as  andirons,  and  still  'other  stones,  some 
flat,  and  some  sticking  up  their  sharp  edges,  were 
placed  before  the  fireplace,  making  a  very  serviceable 
hearth. 

The  benches  were  merely  boards,  some  of  them 
having  round  sticks  stuck  in  the  ends  as  a  support, 
while  others  rested  on  pieces  of  board  nailed  to  them, 


66  NOW-A-DAYS. 

and  still  others,  having  been  broken  down,  were  placed 
on  large  stones.  Planed  boards  were  nailed  against 
the  walls,  in  a  sloping  direction,  to  serve  the  purpose 
of  writing-desks  ;  and  on  these  laid  books  and  slates,  in 
most  "  admired  disorder."  Neither  benches  or  desks 
were  adorned  with  paint  of  any  description. 

Esther  looked  in  vain  for  her  seat  of  majesty. 
There  was  neither  platform  or  desk  for  her;  but  a 
chair  stood  in  one  corner,  which  she  immediately 
appropriated. 

The  girls  had  now  commenced  hanging  their  outer 
garments  on  some  nails,  which  were  driven  into  one 
corner  of  the  room.  These  proving  insufficient  for 
all  their  clothes,  a  pile  was  thrown  upon  the  floor,  be- 
neath those  that  were  hung  up,  and  tin  pails,  con- 
taining their  respective  dinners,  were  scattered  in 
various  cornel's  of  the  apartment. 

[t  was  nine  o'clock.  Esther  looked  in  vain  for 
something  to  call  the  attention  of  the  noisy  troop  to 
that  fact,  but  no  bell  was  there  ;  not  even  a  stick  to 
pound  against  the  walls. 

She  arose. 

"  Children  !"  said  she,  "  you  may  take  your  seats ; 
it  is  time  for  school  to  commence." 

A  scramble  ensued,  afid  presently  all  were  seated. 

There  was  a  pause,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  with  a 
thump  and  several  screams,  -down  came  one  seat, 
which,  having  been  supported  by  a  stone,  Esther 
shrewdly  suspected  had  been  helped  to  fall  by  the 
boy  who  sat  at  the  end  of  it,  and  who  looked  as 
solemn  as  possible,  though  he  could  not  prevent  the 


WORK    BEGUN.  67 

merry  twinkle  of  a  mischief-lover,  from  appearing  in 
his  eyes. 

After  the  laughter,  which  this  accident  caused,  had 
subsided,  Esther  began  to  address  her  pupils. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  all  this  pleasant  morning,'' 
said  she.  "  You  have  come  here  for  the  purpose  of 
learning,  and  I  hope  that  the  few  weeks  that  we  spend 
together  will  be  of  great  advantage  to  you.  I  shall 
hope  to  find  you  all  attentive  and  obedient,  and  you 
will  find  me  always  ready  to  help  you  to  become  well 
educated  men  and  women.  Who  knowrs,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  but  that  some  day  I  shall  see  some  of  my 
pupils  in  Congress  at  Washington,  helping  to  make 
the  laws  of  the  land  ?  Stranger  things  than  that  have 
happened,"  she  added,  as  a  giggle  greeted  this  remark. 
"  Kow,  children,  you  may  take  your  Testaments,  and 
we  will  read  a  few  verses." 

There  was  a  stir,  a  running  to  the  sloping  desk 
against  the  wall,  but  she  soon  perceived  that  there 
were  but  few  who  had  books. 

"  Very  well,"  said  she,  "  I  see  that  you  are  not  all 
supplied  this  morning,  so  we  will  omit  it  till  to-mor- 
row. We  will  begin  our  school  by  repeating  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  You  may  all  kneel,"  she  continued ;  and  as 
she  was  obeyed,  she  knelt  also,  and  repeated  those 
solemn  and  beautiful  words,  that  have  thrilled  the 
heart  of  the  Christian,  whenever  he  has  heard  or 
uttered  them,  retaining  ever  a  portion  of  the  same 
power  that  they  had,  when  first  they  fell  from  the  lips 
of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,  as  he  taught  them  to 
his  humble  disciples. 


OS  NOW-A-DATS. 

The  prayer  being  finished,  she  set  herself  to  work 
to  write  down  the  names  of  her  pupils ;  and  having 
accomplished  this,  which  took  no  little  time,  she  told 
all  those  who  did  not  know  their  letters  to  come  out 
together. 

Nobody  answered  the  summons;  and  she  was 
ooliged  to  ask  each  little  one,  whom  she  suspected  to 
to  be  about  to  take  this  first  difficult  step  in  the  ladder 
of  learning,  separately. 

Her  pleasant  smile  and  kind  words  soon  did  much 
to  divest  them  of  the  bashfulness  which  she  had 
rightly  judged  to  be  the  only  reason  for  their  disobe- 
dience ;  and  having  pointed  out  the  different  letters 
to  some  dozen  flaxen-haired  and  lisping  children,  she 
dismissed  them  agajfl  to  their  seats. 

"  Those  who  read  in  some  reader"  she  now  called 
upon,  and  a  long  file  was  soon  stretched  across  the 
room,  some  of  them  standing  with  their  toes  on  a 
crack,  heads  erect,  and  arms  folded  stifly  across  their 
breasts,  others  leaning  negligently  on  the  shoulder  of 
their  next  neighbor. 

Several  had  no  book  whatever.  The  greater  part, 
however,  were  supplied,  but  unfortunately  the  books 
were  nearly  as  diverse  as  their  owners.  The  English 
Reader,  the  Columbian  Orator,  and  the  American 
Preceptor,  had  each  about  an  equal  number  of  read- 
ers. Morse's  Geography,  one  held  up  in  triumph  as 
his  book ;  another  had  the  National  Reader ;  while  still 
another,  coming  down  to  modern  times,  owned  an 
American  First  Class  Book. 


WORK   BEGUN.  69 

"  This  is  bad,"  thought  Esther,  "  it  will  oblige  me 
to  have  so  many  classes  in  reading." 

"  I  will  hear  you  read,"  she  said ;  and  taking  a  book 
she  selected  a  passage,  and  gave  it  to  the  first  of  the 
row. 

The  pupil,  a  tall  and  awkward  girl,  just  emerging 
from  childhood,  and  entering  that  period,  the  transi- 
tion state,  when  the  girl  becomes  at  once  conscious 
that  she  is  no  longer  a  child,  and,  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  self,  loses  the  freshness  and  abandon  that  ren- 
der childhood  so  beautiful,  too  often  gaining  nothing 
of  value  in  its  place,  complied  with  her  teacher's  re- 
quest, and  read  straight  on,  heeding  neither  stops  or 
marks  of  any  kind,  in  a  loud  and  unvarying  monotone. 

All  the  rest  read  in  quite  a  sirnUar  style,  some  even 
in  a  worse  one,  and  Esther  was  glad  to  dismiss  them 
to  their  seats. 

"  Please  m'y  g'wout  ?''  asked  one  girl,  popping  up 
from  her  seat. 

"  The  girls  may  all  go  for  a  short  recess,"  was  her 
teacher's  reply. 

When  girls  and  boys  in  turn  had  enjoyed  their 
recess,  Miss  Hastings  called  upon  the  class  in  Gram- 
mar, and  nearly  all  of  the  last  class  in  Reading  re-ap- 
peared. Murray's  Grammar  was  the  principal  text- 
book, though  some  few  had  a  little  primer-shaped 
volume,  of  rather  an  antiquated  appearance,  called 
"The  Young  Lady's  Accidence." 

"Oh!  if  I  only  had  a  black-board!"  was  Esther's 
inward  sigh  ;  but  as  that  was  out  of  the  question,  she 
attempted  to  do  the  next  best  thing  in  her  power. 


70  NOW-A-DAYS. 

In  answer  to  her  inquiries,  as  to  how  far  each  had 
advanced  in  the  study,  she  found  that  the  most  of 
them  had  gone  over  a  good  number  of  pages ;  but, 
from  some  few  questions  that  she  asked,  she  concluded 
that  they  had  at  best  a  very  vague  idea  of  what  they 
hud  committed  to  memory. 

"What  is  Grammar?" 

"  It  is  the  art  of  writing  and  speaking  the  English 
language  with  propriety,"  rapidly  answered  Bill 
Smith,  who  stood  at  the  head,  and  who  appeared  well 
pleased  to  be  questioned. 

"  Are  we  English  peeple  ?"  asked  his  teacher. 

"  No,  marm." 

"  Do  we  speak  the  English  language  ?" 

Bill  scratched  hie^head,  then  plunged  his  hands  into 
his  trowsers'  pockets,  and  made  no  reply. 

"  Who  in  the  class  can  tell  me  what  sort  of  people 
speak  the  English  language  ?  Any  one  who  knows 
may  raise  his  hand." 

No  hand  arose. 

Esther  continued.  "  You  know  there  are  a  great 
many  different  people  living  in  different  parts  of  the 
world  ;  and  if  we  were  to  go  there,  we  could  not  un- 
derstand what  they  said,  because  they  speak  differ- 
ently from  us.  They  all  have  bread  to  eat,  and  beds 
to  sleep  on ;  but  if  we  were  hungry,  and  asked  for 
bread,  or  sleepy,  and  asked  ibr  a  bed  to  rest  on,  as 
we  do  here,  they  would  not  know  what  we  wanted. 
For  instance,  the  French  call  bread  pain,  the  Ger- 
mans, brod.  The  language  that  the  French  people 
use  is  called  French  that  of  the  Germans  is  called 


WORK   BEGUN.  71 

German.  Now,  who  can  tell  me  what  people  would 
be  likely  to  talk  English  r<" 

"  The  English,"  shouted  all,  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"  And  could  we  understand  the  English,  if  we  went 
to  England,  where  they  live  ?" 

"  Yes !"  and  "  No !"  cried  about  an  equal  number. 

"  What  country  do  we  live  in?" 

"  America  !"  screamed  all. 

"  What  language  do  we  speak  ?" 


"Not  quite  right,"  said  Esther.  We  speak  the 
English  language,  and  can  understand  the  English, 
of  course.  And  now,  Who  can  tell  me  how  it  hap- 
pens that  we  Americans  speak  the  same  language  with 
the  English?" 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Some  of  the  boys  scratched 
their  heads ;  some  shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the 
other  ;  some  plunged  their  hands  deep  into  their  pock- 
ets, as  if  they  hoped  to  draw  out  a  reply  from  their 
depths  profound — the  girls  twisted  their  apron-strings ; 
but  none  of  these  movements  answered  the  question. 

Esther  then  proceeded,  in  a  very  concise  manner,  to 
tell  them  of  the  coming  of  our  ancestors  from  Eng- 
land to  America,  describing  vividly  their  landing  on 
Plymouth  Kock,  to  which  all  listened  with  parted  lips 
and  eager  eyes.  It  was  evident  that  they  had  some 
new  ideas. 

Having  finished  this  digression,  she  resumed. 

"What  is  a  noun?" 

"  A  noun  is  a  name,"  answered  Mary  Haley,  the 
girl  who  stood  next  to  the  head. 


72  NOW-A-DAY8. 

"  And  how  many  kinds  are  there  ?  Any  one  may 
raise  his  hand  who  can  tell  me." 

A  great  many  were  raised. 

Esther  selected  a  bright-eyed  little  girl,  who  stood 
near  the  foot,  from  the  number. 

"  How  many  kinds  are  there  ?" 

"  Three  !"  she  exclaimed  ;  "  active,  passive,  and 
neuter." 

"No!  the  next." 

"  Two  !  regular  and  irregular." 

"  No !  the  next  again." 

"  Three !  masculine,  femjpine,  and  neuter." 

"  No !  that  is  not  what  I  mean.  William  Smith, 
you  can  tell  me  ?" 

44  Yes  marm !  two — common  and  proper." 

"  Right !"  said  his  teacher.  "  Now,  what  part  of 
speech  is  cow  ?" 

"  Noun  !"  shouted  several ;  while  others,  somewhat 
daunted  by  the  late  failures  of  their  schoolmates, 
wisely  held  their  peace. 

"  Why  do  you  think  it  is  a  noun  ?" 

A  hand  was  raised  near  the  foot. 

"  Speak,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Hastings,  encourag- 
ingly, to  the  little  girl  who  had  before  missed  a  ques- 
tion. 

"  Please,  marm,  it  haint." 

Esther  smiled. 

"  How  many  think  cow  is  a  noun  ?" 

About  ten  hands  went  up ;  but,  as  she  still  kept 
silence,  five  dropped  again. 

"How  many  think  cow  is  not  a  noun?" 


WORK   BEGUN.  73 

All  the  hands  flew  up  again,  except  Bill  Smith's, 
who  stood  looking  very  much  puzzled. 

"  William,  why  do  you  not  raise  your  hand  ?" 

"  Coz,  marm,  I  think  'tis  a  noun.  I've  heern  it 
parsed  so  many  a  time ;  and  our  last  schoolmarm  said 
it  was." 

"  You  are  right,  William,  it  is :  and  to-morrow  I  will 
teach  you  all  how  you  may  tell  a  noun,  whenever  you 
see  one.  Now  I  must  call  for  the  Geography  class." 

Again  there  was  the  same  difficulty  in  arranging 
the  class,  on  account  of  the  variety  of  the  text-books. 

Morse's,  Cummings',  ]\|alte-Brun's,  and  Olney's, 
divided  the  class  of  ten  or  twelve  pupils. 

Esther  found  them  tolerably  well  versed  in  some 
matters,  such  as  the  capitals  of  different  countries  and 
their  population,  but  having  no  more  definite  ideas 
of  this  study  than  of  any  other. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  her  predecessor  had  been  con- 
tent with  enforcing  the  committing  of  the  lessons  to 
memory,  without  caring  whether  her  pupils  under- 
stood the  words  which  they  repeated  ;  and  she  men- 
tally agreed  with  Mrs.  Simpson,  who  had  told  her 
that  the  last  teacher  "  wan't  no  great  shakes." 

"  What  color  is  France  1"  asked  Miss  Hastings. 

"Blue!"  "Yellow!"  "Green!"  exclaimed  each, 
as  it  happened  to  be  painted  on  their  several  maps. 

"  What  color  is  America?"  asked  their  teacher. 

The  more  thoughtful  paused ;  others  replied,  giving 
it  various  tints. 

"  We  live  in  America,  do  we  not  2" 

"Yes!" 

4 


74  NOW  A-DAYS. 

"  Look  out  of  doors  now,  and  you  will  see  that  it  is 
not  a  flat  place,  with  but  one  color,  though  it  is  so 
represented  on  the  map.  Just  so  it  is  with  other 
countries ;  they  have  hills,  and  woods,  and  fields,  and 
the  blue  sky  overhead.  On  the  maps  it  would  take  too 
much  room  to  paint  them  so  ;  and  men  have  measured 
the  countries,  and  put  down  their  general  shape  on 
paper,  with  the  most  important  rivers  and  towns  in 
each,  and  have  had  them  colored,  so  that  you  can 
form  an  idea  where  one  country  begins  and  another 
ends.  I  wanted  to  explain  this  to  you  ;  because,  when 
I  was  small  myself,  I  had  an  idea  just  as  you  have, 
that  the  moment  I  stepped  from  Germany,  which  was 
green  on  my  map,  into  France,  if  I  ever  went  there, 
that  I  should  know  it  by  its  being  Hue  /  so  you  see 
that  you  are  not  the  only  children  who  have  had  the 
same  thoughts  about  that.  Can  you  tell  me  now 
what  is  the  capital  of  Maine  ?" 

"Augusta." 

"Right — and  what  is  a  capital — of  what  use  is  it?" 

No  one  replied. 

"  A  capital  is  a  town  or  city  that  is  selected  by  the 
people  of  a  state  for  the  place  where  they  build  a 
state-house,  where  the  legislature,  that  is,  the  people 
who  are  chosen  to  make  the  laws,  meets,  and  where 
the  governor  goes  to  meet  his  council,  to  decide  on 
different  public  matters.  It  is  quite  important  to 
have  such  a  place,  so  that  anybody  who  is  chosen  to 
help  make  the  laws,  knows  just  where  to  go.  Every 
state  has  such  a  town,  which  is  called  the  capital. 
The  class  may  now  go  to  their  seats,"  said  Esther, 


WORK   BEGUN.  75 

after  asking  some  few  additional  questions,  for  it  was 
now  time  for  the  intermission  at  noon. 

Mrs.  Simpson  had  informed  her  that  it  was  custom- 
ary to  give  the  "  younguns  an  hour's  noonin,''  and  she 
now  dismissed  them. 

The  little  room  presented  at  once  a  lively  scene. 
The  boys  vented  their  superabundant  animal  spirits, 
which  had  been  somewhat  repressed  by  the  restraint 
of  school  hours,  in  loud  whoops  and  halloos,  as  they 
rushed  out  of  doors.  Here  they  wrestled  with  each 
other,  or  played  u  tag"  with  the  wilder  girls,  while 
the  more  quiet  walked  around  the  school-house. 

Soon  the  claims  of  appetite  bega.ii  to  assert  them- 
selves, and  little  groups  surrounded  their  dinner-pails 
and  had  quite  a  social  time. 

Several  offered  a  part  of  their  lunches,  which  con- 
sisted of  large  molasses  doughnuts,  bread  and  butter, 
and  gingerbread,  principally,  to  Miss  Hastings,  who 
accepted  a  little  from  each,  though  amply  provided 
for  by  Mrs.  Simpson,  who  had  laden  Sammy  with  a 
pail,  whose  contents  he  felt  extremely  proud  of  sharing 
with  the  "  school  inarm." 

Esther  heard  him  repeatedly  exulting  over  the  fact 
that  "  she  was  goin'  to  live  to  his  house," — to  which, 
at  last,  some  who  grew  rather  provoked  at  his  self- 
complacency,  replied  that  "  she  would  tell  his  marm 
everything  he  did  in  school." 

Hereupon  an  animated  discussion  ensued,  and  was 
only  interrupted,  just  as  it  was  on  the  point  of  ending 
in  blows,  by  Miss  Hastings'  announcement  that  the 
hour  had  expired. 


76  NOW-A-DAYS. 

Once  again  settled  into  quiet,  she  proceeded  to  call 
the  classes  in  spelling,  and  greatly  would  old  Noah 
"Webster  have  been  surprised  had  he  heard  the  twist- 
ing of  letters  and  syllables  that  followed. 

Some  seemed  determined  to  insert  any  number  of 
silent  letters  into  the  simplest  words,  while  others, 
and  the  greater  number,  put  into  practice  and  as  ri- 
gidly adhered  to  the  phonetic  system. 

Mary  Haley's  theory  was  the  first  one,  and  she 
pressed  so  many  letters  into  her  service  at  each  word 
given  her,  that  she  could  hardly  fail  to  have  some 
of  the  right  ones  among  the  number. 

Bill  Smith  was  equally  good  in  the  rival  system, 
and  as  Esther  passed  the  words  from  the  one  to  the 
other,  as  they  stood  side  by  side,  she  could  hardly  help 
smiling  at  the  contrast  between  their  methods,  and 
the  consistency  with  which  each  adhered  to  his  or  her 
favorite  one. 

"  Spell  circuit." 

Bill  replied  "  s-u-r-k-i-t" 

"  No,  the  next." 

"  S-u-r-r-q-u-e-t-t-e,"  answered  Miss  Mary. 

From  thence  it  passed  through  the  class  till  it 
reached  a  little  boy,  who  had  been  anxiously  awaiting 
his  turn,  listening  with  fear  to  each  trial,  and  smiles 
lighting  up  his  face  as  it  was  missed  by  those  above 
him.  It  came  his  turn.  He  spelled  it  correctly,  and 
went  in  triumph  up  to  the  head. 

"  Please  marm,  he  peeked  into  his  spellin'  book," 
exclaimed  the  boy  below  him. 

"  Oh  I  navar !" 


WORK   BEGUN.  77 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?"  asked  Miss  Hastings  of  the 
accuser.  He  £ung  his  head.  "  I  know  he  did,"  said 
he. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,"  was  her  reply, 
and  she  thought  how  singular  it  is  that  the  elevation 
of  an  equal  should  so  offend  us,  and  lead  us  even  to 
impute  wrong  motives  and  actions  to  him,  when  we 
can  look  with  admiration  on  an  acknowledged  supe- 
rior occupying  the  same  place,  and  feel  not  the  slight- 
est envy  towards  him. 

Eecess  followed,  after  which,  classes  in  arithmetic 
were  called  up,  and  hardly  had  Esther  finished  this 
when  four  o'clock  announced  to  the  glad  scholars  that 
school  hours  for  that  day  were  over. 

"  This  has  been  a  happy,  busy  day,"  said  Esther  to 
herself  as  she  walked  slowly  homeward,  her  mind 
filled  with  undeveloped  plans  for  the  future.  "  What 
a  field  is  open  to  me  here  !  The  minds  of  these  child- 
ren are  as  fresh,  wild,  and  unwrought  as  the  country 
in  which  they  live.  It  is  mine  to  fell  and  uproot  the 
strong  trees  of  ignorance,  and  plant  in  their  stead 
the  precious  seeds  of  knowledge  and  truth.  It  will 
require  hard  labor  indeed,  but  nothing  good  or  great 
springs  up  and  grows  in  the  soil  of  earth  or  of  the 
heart  without  cultivation. 

"  I  have  found  the  place  to  work  in  !  And  how 
much  more  fortunate  am  I  than  many  who  move 
wearily  about  in  life,  asking  sadly  '  to  what  purpose 
am  I  living  ?  What  is  there  for  me  to  do  ?'  Thank 
God  that  he  has  both  shown  me  what  to  do  and  given 
me  strength  to  enter  upon  my  task." 


CHAPTEK  YII. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH. 

NEARLY  a  month  had  passed  away,  and  Esther,  to 
her  great  gratification,  now  saw  some  of  her  plans  in 
successful  operation.  The  Sabbath-school  had  met 
with  no  opposition,  for  the  parents  were  only  too  glad 
to  be  free  from  the  noise  of  their  restless  children, 
even  if  but  for  a  short  time  in  the  day. 

She  had  felt  somewhat  discouraged,  on  entering 
her  day  school  for  the  first  time,  and  finding  it  com- 
posed of  scholars  of  all  ages,  from  the  youth  of  nine- 
teen or  twenty,  and  girls  much  larger  than  she  her- 
self, down  to  the  lisping  child  who  had  never  learned 
its  letters  ;  and  her  examination  of  the  books  which 
they  had  brought  with  them,  as  we  have  seen,  only 
increased  her  perplexity,  since  hardly  two  had  the 
same  book,  as  they  had  taken  whatever  their  parents 
had  happened  to  have  in  the  house. 

She  knew  that  it  would  take  too  long  to  procure 
books  alike,  even  if  the  people  had  the  inclination 
and  ability  to  purchase  them,  and  after  a  while  had 
succeeded  in  getting  her  classes  into  tolerable  order. 
She  decided,  however,  that  she  must  resort  in  a  great 
measure  to  oral  instruction,  and  soon  had  the  satisfac- 


VALLEY -OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.        79 

• 

tion  of  seeing  her  pupils  interested,  and  she  hoped, 
progressing. 

The  snow  had  come  and  covered  the  ground  to  a 
considerable  depth,  but  as  her  evenings  were  occu- 
pied principally  in  preparing  for  her  classes,  the  long 
hem's  did  not  pass  heavily.  She  had  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  families  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
had  found  one  or  two  possessed  of  considerable  culti- 
vation. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  that  she  was  sitting  in 
the  front  room,  talking  with  her  little  favorite  Sammy, 
when  the  door  suddenly  opened,  and  a  young  girl 
entered. 

"  How  d'ye  do  ?''  said  she,  seating  herself  near  the 
fire-place,  and  throwing  back  her  hood,  she  shook 
down  a  mass  of  long  ringlets.  "  Folks  pretty  well  ?'' 
she  continued. 

Esther  assured  her  that  they  were. 

"  I  dunno  as  you  know  who  I  be,"  proceeded  the 
stranger.  "  Wall,  I'm  Araminty  Cornish — I'm  a 
stayin'  to  Miss  Williams'  now,  fur  a  spell." 

"  And  how  is  Mrs.  Williams  to-day  P  asked  Esther, 
with  a  good  deal  of  interest,  for  she  was  quite  a  favor- 
ite of  hers,  "and  how  is  the  babe  ?" 

"  Oh !  They're  both  on  'ern  well  enough !  Miss 
Williams  is  rather  spleeny,  I  think,  to  speak  my  mind, 
but  spleeny  folks  alus  gits  along  pooty  well,  I'll  risk 
um.  Her  youngun's  a  fortnight  old  most,  and  she 
haint  teched  to  do  a  livin'  thing  about  house  yit. 
There's  Miss  Haley,  she's  done  her  wash  in'  and  her 
youngun  aint  but  four  weeks  old,  nuther." 


80  XOW-A-DAYS. 

Mrs.  Simpson  now  entered,  and^  after  talking  awhile 
with  Araminta,  the  latter  remarked  that  she  "  bleeved 
she'd  drop  in  and  see  Miss  Haley,"  and  abruptly  took 
her  leave. 

"  I'm  goin'  down  to  see  Miss  Williams',"  said  Elvira, 
as  she  entered,  ready  dressed  to  go  out. 

"  1^  will  go  with  you,  if  you  will  wait  a  moment  or 
two,"  said  Esther,  and  hastily  putting  on  her  bonnet 
and  shawl,  she  started. 

"  I  hope  you've  wropped  up  warm,"  remarked  El- 
vira, "  for  it's  snappin'  cold  out." 

They  walked  on  a  few  steps  in  silence,  when  Elvira 
broke  out,  "  That  Minty  Cornish  is  the  slimpsiest  piece 
that  ever  I  see.  She  talks  about  Miss  Williams  bein' 
spleeny ;  all  she  thinks  on  is  gaddiu'  about  among  the 
neighbors  and  standin'  before  the  glass  twistin'  them 
curls  of  her'n  round  her  fingers.  I  hed  as  good  a 
mind  as  ever  I  hed  to  eat,  to  give  her  a  good  dressin' 
down,  when  she  was  talkin'  so  mighty  nippant  about 
Miss  Williams." 

Mrs.  Williams'  house  was  not  far  distant,  and  they 
soon  reached  it,  entering  without  the  ceremony  of 
knocking,  as  was  the  fashion  of  the  country. 

It  was  a  log-house,  and  the  outer  door  opened  di- 
rectly into  the  kitchen,  a  large  room  heated  by  the 
usual  great  fireplace.  The  chimney  was  made  of 
rocks,  and  a  large  flat  stone  formed  the  hearth.  The 
fire  had  now  burned  low,  and  it  seemed  quite  cold 
there.  An  open  door  led  into  a  small  bedroom,  and 
a  feeble  voice  said,  as  they  entered,  "  Is  that  you, 


VALLEY  OF  THK  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.       81 

Minty  ?  I'm  glad  you  have  come,  for  it  seems  very 
cold.  I  think  the  fire  has  gone  down." 

"It  is  not  Araminta,"  said  Esther,  entering  the  bed- 
room, and  approaching  Mrs.  Williams;  she  noticed, 
as  she  did  so,  that  she  was  shivering  as  if  with  the 
ague,  and  hastily  stepped  out  to  arrange  the  fire.  El- 
vira, however,  was  already  thus  employed,  and  as 
Esther  came  near,  said,  "  Haint  this  pooty  work  ?  To 
go  off  and  leave  a  sick  woman  alone,  so  1" 

Esther  meantime  was  examining  a  compound  which 
stood  in  a  small  frying-pan  on  the  hearth,  while  Elvira 
asked  Mrs.  Williams  "  What  under  the  sun  she  let 
Minty  go  for?" 

"  She  went  to  get  some  milk  to  put  in  my  gruel," 
replied  Mrs.  Williams.  "  I  have  had  nothing  to  eat 
for  some  tfme,  and  feel  rather  faint." 

"Good  for  nothin'  trollop!"  ejaculated  Elvira,  en- 
tering the  kitchen  again. 

"  This,  I  suppose,  is  meant  for  gruel,"  said  Esther, 
"  but  it  is  poor  trash,  and  I  think  we  had  better  make 
some  fresh." 

"  That's  my  mind,"  replied  Elvira.  "  Trash  !  why 
'taint  fit  for  the  hogs  to  eat.  You  go  in  and  make 
Miss  Williams  comfortable,  and  I'll  see  to  the  gruel." 

Esther  complied,  and  was  shocked  to  see,  on  re-en- 
tering the  bedroom,  that  the  flush  of  fever  had  suc- 
ceeded to  the  chills  which  had  shaken  Mrs.  Williams' 
slight  frame,  and  putting  her  hand  on  the  sick 
woman's  brow,  found  it  burning.  She  shook  up  the 
pillows,  and  immediately  procuring  some  cold  water, 
bathed  with  gentle  hand  the  sufferer's  fevered  brow. 


82  NOW-A-DAY8. 

Mrs.  Williams'  cap  had  fallen  off,  and  her  long  silky 
brown  hair  lay  disordered  on  the  pillow.  "  Poor 
child !"  said  Esther,  half  aloud,  as  she  gazed  on  the 
fair  young  invalid. 

Tears  stole  over  Mrs.  Williams'  cheeks  as  she  heard 
these  words  and  felt  the  caressing  hand  of  Esther  on 
her  head.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hand,  and 
lay  weeping  silently.  The  babe,  who  had  been  sleeping, 
now  awoke,  and  Esther  strove  to  turn  the  mother's  at- 
tention to  her  child  by  praising  its  deep  blue  eyes,  so 
like  its  parents',  and  partially  succeeded. 

Elvira  soon  entered,  bearing  the  gruel,  and  declar- 
ing that  "  there  wa'nt  a  dish  fit  to  be  used  in  the 
whole  house ;  she  wondered,  for  her  part,  that  they 
wa'nt  all  pizoned  with  the  dirt."  After  a  few  mo- 
ments'  pause,  she  inquired  "  Where's  Williams  ?" 

"He  went  this  morning  to  get  some  meal,"  replied 
his  wife  ;  "  I  expect  him  home  every  moment." 

In  fact,  as  she  spoke,  a  horse-sled  drove  up  to  the 
door,  and  Mr.  Williams  entered.  He  came  directly  to 
the  bedroom,  and  with  a  "  How  d'ye  do  ?"  to  Elvira  and 
a  bow  to  Esther,  approached  his  wife,  asking  her  how 
she  felt. 

"Why,  you  look  real  smart,"  he  said,  as  he  gazed 
at  her  admiringly.  "  Your  cheeks  are  as  red  as  roses. 
But  where's  Minty  ?"  he  went  on. 

"  She's  gone  off,"  replied  Elvira,  "  and  left  Miss 
Williams  all  soul  alone.  I  dunno  but  she'd  a  froze,  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  me  and  Miss  Hastings." 

At  if  in  verification  of  the  old  proverb,  relating  to 
the  appearance  of  a  rather  suspicious  person  when  he 


VALLKY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.        83 

is  spoken  of,  Miss  Cornish  now  entered,  and  to  Mr. 
Williams'  angry  inquiry  "  Why  she  had  left  his  wife 
so  long  ?"  replied  "  Lord  !  what  a  fuss  !  I  just  stepped 
into  a  neighbor's  to  git  some  milk."  Then,  flouncing 
out  of  the  room,  she  muttered  something  about  "  some 
folks  alus  thinkin'  they  must  be  waited  on  by  inches, 
and  if  she  didn't  suit,  they  might  git  somebody  else." 

She  hardly  deigned  to  bestow  a  nod  or  look  on 
Esther  and  Elvira,  as  they  passed  through  the  kitchen 
on  their  homeward  way. 

"Poor  Mrs.  Williams!"  sighed  Esther,  as  they 
walked  briskly  over  the  smooth  road. 

"  Don't  you  think  she'll  git  up?"  asked  Elvira. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Esther  ;  "  I  am  not  much 
accustomed  to  sickness,  but  I  am  afraid  that  it  will  be 
a  long  time  first,  if  indeed  she  ever  recovers.  She 
needs  careful  nursing." 

"  Wall !  I  guess  she'll  have  to  git  somebody  besides 
Minty  Cornish  to  give  it  to  her,"  retorted  Elvira,  "  for 
she  hain't  good  for  nothin',  for  all  she  thinks  she's  the 
biggest  toad  in  the  puddle." 

Mrs.  Simpson  seemed  quite  shocked  at  the  account 
they  gave  of  their  sick  neighbor,  on  their  return,  and 
soon  after  tea,  went  to  see  Mrs.  Williams  for  herself. 

She  found  her  in  a  high  fever,  and  immediately 
dispatched  a  messenger  for  a  physician,  though  the 
nearest  one  resided  in  Patten,  some  thirty  miles  dis- 
tant. 

"Wall!"  said  Elvira,  "Miss  Williams  must  be 
dreadful  sick,  for  Miss  Simpson  haint  no  great  friend 
to  doctors,  she's  sich  a  good  miss  herself,  and  I  never 


84:  NOW-A-DAYS. 

knowed  her  to  send  arter  Dr.  Plummer,  'thout  'twas 
a  case  of  life  and  death." 

The  doctor  shook  his  head  ominously  when  he  ar- 
rived and  saw  his  patient,  saying  he  feared  that  there 
\vas  nothing  which  he  could  do  to  restore  her  to 
health. 

"  I  fear,"  said  he  to  Mrs.  Simpson,  "  that  she  is  in 
a  rapid  consumption.  I  will  do  my  best,  but  the  re- 
sult is  in  God's  hands." 

But  Mr.  Williams  would  not  believe  so  unwelcome 
an  opinion.  His  wife  suffered  so  little  and  seemed  so 
cheerful  that  he  could  not  think  she  was  so  soon  to 
be  taken  from  him. 

"  All  you  need,  Nelly,"  he  would  say  to  his  wife, 
whenever  she  spoke  of  her  approaching  departure, 
"  all  you  need,  in  the  world,  is  something  strengthen- 
ing ;  you'll  get  up  fast  enough  when  you  get  over 
these  sweats  and  fever  turns,  that  weaken  you  so." 

"  Ah  !"  she  would  reply  with  a  sad  smile  and  tear- 
ful eyes,  "  my  days  on  earth  are  numbered  !" 

Esther  was  now  much  with  her,  for  Mrs.  Williams 
seemed  much  attached  to  her,  and  talked  often  to  her 
of  her  approaching  death. 

"  I  have  thought  for  a  long  time  past,''  she  said  one 
day  when  they  were  alone  together,  "  that  I  should 
never  recover  ;  and  there  are  some  few  things  that  I 
should  like  to  arrange  before  I  die.  My  husband  will 
not  listen  to  me  when  I  speak  of  death,  and  I  must 
intrust  my  wishes  to  you.  You  will  see,  will  you  not, 
Miss  Hastings,  that  my  requests  are  fulfilled?"  she 
went  on,  looking  earnestly  into  her  friend's  eyes. 


VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.        85 

Esther  signified  her  readiness  to  do  so,  by  a  mute 
assent,  and  Mrs.  Williams  continued,  while  tears 
gushed  to  her  eyes,  "  I  should  like  to  live,  for  the  sake 
of  my  husband  and  this  dear  child,  if  it  could  be  so 
— but  it  is  my  Father.  '  Let  Him  do  what  seemeth 
him  good.'  I  hope  I  can  say  *  His  will  be  done.'  It 
is  hard  indeed  to  leave  this  dear  babe  without  a 
mother's  care !"  said  she,  pressing  her  child  to  her 
heart  convulsively.  "  Poor  little  helpless  one !"  she 
exclaimed,  while  tears  streamed  over  her  pale  face. 

"  Remember  who  has  said  '  And  all  thy  childfen 
shall  be  taught  of  the  Lord,  and  great  shall  be  the 
peace  of  them,' "  said  Esther.  Mrs.  Williams  raised 
her  eyes  to  heaven,  while  Esther  continued,  " '  He  shall 
feed  his  flock  like  a  shepherd  ;  he  shall  gather  the 
lambs  in  his  arms  and  carry  them  in  his  bosom.'  Can 
you  not  trust  your  lamb  to  the  Shepherd  of  Israel  ?" 

"  I  can,  I  do !"  replied  the  mother,  while  a  smile  of 
holy  trust  lighted  up  her  sad  eyes.  "But  now  will 
you  not  read  to  me  some  of  the  sweet  consolations 
which  our  Father  offers  to  his  weak  children?" 

Esther  complied  ;  and  as  she  saw  the  calmness  with 
which  her  friend  contemplated  that  great  change 
which  was  so  soon  to  take  place,  she  inwardly  ex- 
claimed, "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and 
let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 

It  was  now  late,  and  Esther  rose  to  take  her  leave. 
Mrs.  Williams  took  her  hand,  pressing  it  fondly,  as  if 
unwilling  to  have  her  go.  "  You  will  remember," 
she  said,  "  to  write  to  my  aunt  of  my  death,  and  of 
my  child.  She  is  not  a  Christian,  and  this  will  be  a 


86  NOW-A-DAY.S. 

heavy  blow  to  her ;  buf  tell  her  that  I  begged  her,  as 
my  last  request,  to  go  to  Jesus  for  consolation.  I  have 
told  you  that  she  has  been  a  mother  to  me,  ever  since 
I  was  left,  as  this  little  one  will  soon  be,  motherless." 
Her  voice  was  choked,  but  she  continued :  'k  Tell  her 
my  dying  charge  was,  that  she  should  meet  me  in 
heaven,  with  the  child  that  I  intrust  to  her  care. 
Will  }rou  do  me  this  favor,  Miss  Hastings?" 

"  I  will,  indeed,"  replied  Esther ;  "  but  do  not  fatigue 
yourself  to-night;  I  shall  see  you  often  again,  and  you 
can  then  tell  me  all  you  would  like  me  to  do." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Mrs.  Williams,  with  a  sad  smile  ; 
"  but  we  know  not  what  a  few  hours  may  bring  forth. 
Let  me  bid  you  good-bye ;"  and  she  wound  her  arms 
around  Esther's  neck,  exclaiming,  "  we  shall  meet 
again  in  heaven." 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  Esther,  in  a  voice  tremulous 
with  emotion,  "  and  I  hope  often  again  on  earth." 

Mrs.  Williams  shook  her  head.  "  I  have  often 
thought,"  she  said,  "  that  those  near  death  receive  a 
warning  from  the  death-angel ;  and  it  seems  to  me 
that  I  have  seen  the  last  morning  dawn  on  earth  that 
I  shall  ever  behold." 

Esther  gently  warned  her  not  to  give  way  to  gloomy 
fancies ;  and,  assuring  her  that  she  should  come  on  the 
next  day  to  see  her,  bade  her  good  afternoon. 

"Good-bye,"  repeated  her  friend,  "  we  shall  not  be 
parted  long." 

Mrs.  Williams'  foreboding  proved  correct;  for  a 
sudden  change  took  place  in  the  night,  and  before  asy 
of  Mrs.  Simpson's  family  could  reach  the  house,  in  an- 


VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.         87 

swer  to  the  half  frantic  summons  of  her  husband,  she 
had  breathed  her  last. 

Esther's  tears  fell  fast  on  the  pallid  brow  of  the 
corpse,  as  she  stood  over  her  friend  ;  and  there  anew 
she  consecrated  herself  to  the  service  of  Christ,  and 
prayed  that  she  might  indeed  meet  the  sainted  one  on 
high. 

Mr.  "Williams'  grief  was  almost  overwhelming.  He 
was  passionately  attached  to  his  gentle  wife,  and  had 
not,  like  her,  learned  where  to  seek  true  consolation. 
He  repulsed  all  who  endeavored  to  offer  sympathy, 
and  no  persuasion  could  induce  him  to  leave  his  wife. 

"Dear  Nelly!"  he  would  murmur,  and  gaze  with 
dry  eyes  upon  the  sweet  face  of  his  loved  one. 

Many  of  the  neighbors  gathered  around  him,  gazing 
at  him  with  compassion,  not  unmingled  with  surprise 
and  curiosity,  for  such  grief  as  his  was  new  to  them. 
They  were  accustomed  to  violent  bursts  of  emotion, 
but  this  unnatural  calmness  almost  terrified  them  ; 
and  after  striving  in  vain  to  induce  him  to  seek  rest, 
several  gathered  together  in  a  little  group,  shaking 
their  heads  ominously,  and  predicting  that  he  would 
be  crazy. 

"  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away, 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord,"  said  a  tall  man, 
entering  the  death-chamber,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
Mr.  Williams'  shoulder. 

"  It's  Elder  Rider,"  whispered  Elvira,  "  I'm  dread- 
ful glad  he's  come.  If  ever  there  was  a  good  man  on 
airth,  he's  one." 


88  KOW-A-DAY8. 

Mr.  "Williams  looked  up  at  thjs  new  comer,  and, 
pointing  to  his  wife,  said,  "  She  was  my  all !" 

"  My  son,"  began  the  Elder,  in  a  deep,  firm  voice, 
"  God  has  indeed  come  very  near  you,  and  laid  his 
hand  heavily  upon  you  ;  but  we  should  not  mourn  as 
those  without  hope.  I  thank  God  that  she  was  one 
of  the  redeemed.  I  loved  her,"  he  continued,  while 
he  hastily  wiped  away  a  tear,  unwilling  that  any 
should  see  his  emotion,  "  I  loved  her  as  my  own  child  ; 
for,"  he  added,  "  I  trust  that  through  my  means  she 
was  brought  to  give  her  heart  to  the  Saviour."  He 
paused  a  few  moments — "  Let  us  pray,"  said  he  ;  and 
kneeling  there,  he  poured  out  his  soul  in  prayer. 

Never  had  Esther  heard  greater  eloquence.  His 
whole  soul  seemed  filled  with  love  to  God  and  man ; 
and  as  he  prayed  for  the  bereaved  ones,  for  the  hus- 
band, "  from  whose  dwelling  the  sunshine  of  his  wife's 
smile,  and  the  music  of  her  voice,  had  been  taken  to 
make  heaven  more  bright,  and  to  add  to  its  melody," 
and  for  the  babe,  "  the  living  tie,  which  bound  him 
to  the  mother,  who  had  gone  before,  and  whose  purity 
and  innocence  it  was  his  to  preserve,  that  they  might 
meet  the  glorified  one  on  high,"  Esther's  eyes  were 
not  the  only  one's  in  that  room  that  -were  wet  with 
tears,  and  Mr.  "Williams  wept  like  an  infant. 


CHAPTEE  Yin. 

A   BABBATH   IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

IT  was  the  calm  and  holy  Sabbath,  when  all  that 
was  mortal  of  Ellen  Williams  was  intrusted  to  the 
cold  bosom  of  the  mother  earth.  Many  and  sincere 
were  the  mourners  there — for  her  gentleness  and 
sweetness  had  won  her  many  friends  ;  and  in  so  small 
a  community,  the  death  of  one  of  its  members  casts  a 
gloom  over  all,  winch  is  not  speedily  dissipated. 

From  the  grave  they  went  to  the  school-house, 
where  Elder  Rider  was  to  preach.  Though  the  house 
was  a  log  one,  it  was  none  the  less  comfortable.  A 
huge  wood  fire  blazed  upon  the  rock  hearth,  and  its 
crackling  alone  broke  the  silence  as  Esther  entered, 
and  took  her  seat  among  the  waiting  assembly.  The 
elder  was  already  there  ;  and,  after  a  pause  of  a  few 
moments,  rising,  said,  "  Let  us  commence  the  worship 
of  God  by  singing, 

'  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove.' " 

Very  few  present  had  hymn-books,  but  this  seemed 
a  familiar  tune  ;  for,  as  the  preacher's  deep  bass  voice 
commenced,  he  was  joined  by  nearly  all  the  audience. 
The  hymn  being  ended,  he  read  a  chapter  in  the 


90  NOW-A-BAYS. 

Bible,  explaining,  in  a  familiar  manner,  anything 
which  he  thought  might  not  be  understood  by  his 
hearers.  After  this  he  said,  "  Let  us  unite  in  prayer." 
All  stood  up ;  and  as  his  fervent  supplications  arose 
to  the  Author  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift,  many 
voices  joined  him,  ejaculating,  "  Lord,  help  !"  "  Hear, 
Lord  !"  "  Amen  !"  and  the  like  :  and  as  he  prayed  that 
the  solemn  sight  which  they  had  just  witnessed  might 
lead  many  of  them  to  put  their  trust  in  the  Redeemer, 
that,  like  the  departed,  when  the  death-summons 
came,  they  might  obey  willingly,  and,  like  her,  be 
enabled  to  say,  "  Oh,  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  Oh, 
death  !  where  is  thy  sting  ?"  many  a  sob  was  heard, 
and  many  tears  flowed  over  rough  cheeks,  all  unused 
to  such  a  display  of  feeling.  The  prayer  concluded, 
they  sung  a  familiar  hymn,  after  which  the  elder, 
rising,  and  saying,  in  a  solemn  tone,  "  Hear  what  God 
the  Lord  saith,"  announced  his  text :  "  Because  I 
have  called,  and  ye  have  refused ;  I  have  stretched 
out  my  hand,  and  no  man  regarded  ;  but  ye  have  set 
at  naught  all  my  counsel,  and  would  none  of  my  re- 
proof; I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity,  and  mock 
when  your  fear  cometh." 

"  These  words,  which  I  have  just  read,"  said  the 
Elder,  "  show  us  both  the  justice  and  mercy  of  God. 
1  Because  I  have  called,'  he  hath  said ;  and  has  he 
not  called  after  us  in  times  and  ways  without  num- 
ber ?  Hath  not  his  hand  been  ever  open,  giving  bless- 
ing innumerable  ?  Seed-time  and  harvest  have  not 
failed,  that  your  lives  might  be  spared.  Yea,  even 
your  lives  he  is  lengthening  out,  while  you  are  still 


A    SABBATH     IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  91 

living  regardless  of  him,  as  if  there  were  no  God. 
And  when  he  hath  found,  that  his  constant  kindness 
hath  failed  to  make  you  give  your  hearts  to  him,  then 
hath  he  drawn  near,  and  laid  his  chastening  hand 
upon  you.  He  who  hath  said  that  he  doth  '  not  will- 
ingly afflict  the  children  of  men,'  He  hath  taken  now 
from  one,  the  child  of  his  love,  and  from  another,  the 
wife  of  his  bosom,  and  still  you  have  refused  to  listen, 
or  have  murmured,  and  raised  your  puny  arm  in  re- 
bellion against  the  Most  High.  'Who  are  ye,  that 
ye  should  contend  with  the  Almighty  ?  He  that  re- 
proveth  God,  let  him  answer  it.'  But,  oh,  my  breth- 
ren, God  hath  done  yet  greater  things  for  us,  whereof 
we  are  glad,"  continued  the  Elder;  and  his  deep  voice 
was  choked  with  emotion,  as  he  told  of  Christ's  com- 
ing, and  of  his  pure  life  on  earth. 

He  dwelt  on  his  miracles,  and  pictured,  while  his 
hearers  listened  with  breathless  attention,  the  scene 
of  the  restoration  of  life  to  the  son  of  the  widow  of 
JSTain,  and  the  opening  the  eyes  of  the  blind.  Then, 
after  a  pause,  he  went  on  :  "  And  how  did  sinful  men 
receive  this  spotless  Saviour?  Methinks  I  hear,  even 
now,  the  cry,  'Crucify  him!  crucify  him!'"  Then 
followed  a  glowing  description  of  Christ's  agony  in 
the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  of  his  trial,  and,  finally, 
of  his  crucifixion  on  Mount  Calvary.  Groans  and 
sobs  were  heard ;  and  as  he  pronounced  the  last  words 
of  Jesus,  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do !"  Esther's  eyes,  too,  filled  with  tears. 

"  And  ye,  too,  are  daily  crucifying  the  Lord  afresh," 
continued  the  preacher.,  <"  Ye,  too,  are  rejecting  the 


92  NOW-A-DAYS. 

holy  and  just  One.  And  if  God's  mercy  doth  not 
move  your  hard  hearts,  hear  now  of  his  terrible  jus- 
tice." 

Then  followed  a  stern  warning  to  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come.  The  scene  of  the  last  judgment  was 
portrayed  with  a  masterly  hand,  and  the  preacher 
concluded  :  "  '  To-day,  if  ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden 
not  your  hearts,'  lest  he  *  also  laugh  at  your  calamity 
and  mock  when  your  fear  cometh.'  " 

The  Elder  then  sat  down,  first  saying,  "There's  lib- 
erty, brethren  !"  There  was  a  short  pause,  when  a 
tall  man  got  up  and  remarked  that  he  "  could  witness 
to  the  truth  of  what  had  been  said.  Every  word  on 
it's  truth,"  he  went  on.  "  Gospel  truth,  and  I  hope 
that  the  truth  that  we  have  heered  this  day  with  our 
outward  ears,  will  sink  deep  into  our  hearts,  and  take 
root  downward,  and  bear  fruit  upward,  to  the  glory 
of  God." 

"  Amen,"  said  many,  as  he  sat  down.  He  was  suc- 
ceeded by  another,  who  said  nearly  the  same  thing, 
though  in  diiFerent  words. 

But  the  people,  who  had  listened  very  attentively 
to  Elder  Eider,  now  seemed  restless,  and  twisted  un- 
easily in  their  seats.  A  baby  who  had  been  asleep 
awoke  and  cried  lustily.  Its  mother's  efforts  to  quiet 
it  proving  unavailing,  she  rose  and  hurried  out  of  the 
room. 

After  the  last  speaker  had  ended,  the  Elder  offered 
a  brief  prayer  and  dismissed  the  assembly,  first  an- 
nouncing that  after  a  short  intermission  there  would 


A,   SABBATH    IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  93 

be  a  conference  meeting,  which  he  hoped  would  be 
fully  attended. 

Most  of  the  people  now  dispersed,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  families  who  had  brought  their  dinners, 
as  they  lived  too  far  from  the  school-house  to  return 
to  their  homes  at  noon,  and  were  soon  gathered  in 
little  knots,  talking  of  various  matters  with  their 
neighbors.  Some,  however,  went  home  with  Mrs. 
Simpson,  who,  living  quite  near,  extended  a  cordial 
invitation  to  them  to  dine  with  her. 

Esther  walked  slowly  home,  thinking  of  the  power 
of  the  preacher,  of  how  often  she  had  heard  these 
familiar  truths,  and  wondered  that  she  had  listened  to 
them  unmoved,  as  she  had  so  frequently.  "After  all," 
thought  she,  "  the  secret  of  his  eloquence  lies  in  his 
earnestness." 

On  entering  Mrs.  Simpson's  front  room,  she  found 
Elder  Kider  there.  He  immediately  began  to  ask 
her  how  she  succeeded  in  her  sabbath-school,  and 
proposed  that  it  should  not  be  postponed,  as  Esther 
had  intended. 

"  I  want  to  see  how  you  manage,  my  sister,"  said 
he.  It  was  therefore  arranged  that  it  should  be  held 
directly  after  the  conference  meeting. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

THE   CONFERENCE. 

THERE  was  quite  a  crowd  around  the  large  fireplace, 
as  Esther  and  Elvira  entered  the  school-room  after 
dinner,  at  the  appointed  time  for  the  meeting. 

"  There's  Miss  Haley,"  said  Elvira.  "  She  don't  git 
out  often  ;  she  wa'nt  here  this  mornin',  but  you  alus 
see  her  to  conference.  Old  Miss  Springer,  too,  I  de- 
clare ;  but  there's  the  Elder." 

As  he  entered,  there  was  a  general  rush  for  the 
seats.  After  a  prayer,  Elder  Rider  read  a  chapter  in 
the  Bible  and  made  a  few  remarks,  after  which  he 
said  he  "  hoped  to  hear  from  every  one  present  who 
had  named  the  name  of  Christ,  and  that  all  would 
remember  that  whoever  '  shall  deny'  Christ  l  before 
men,  him,  he  will  also  deny  before  his  father  which  is 
in  heaven.'  He  himself  hath  said  it."  - 

He  then  sat  down,  saying  he  "  should  like  to  hear 
from  the  sisters  first." 

There  was  quite  a  pause. 

"  Let  there  be  liberty  !"  said  the  Elder,  and  as  no 
one  rose,  he  added,  "  Quench  not  the  spirit !" 

Suddenly  a  woman  rose,  and  turning  her  face 
toward  the  wall,  began  to  speak. 


THE    COXFEREKCE.  95 

"  That's  Miss  Haley,"  whispered  Elvira. 

Esther  listened  attentively,  but  could  hear  nothing 
that  she  said  except  "  Lord,"  "heart,"  "soul,"  "feel- 
ings," and  the  like  disconnected  words,  as  Mrs.  Haley 
spoke  in  a  very  low  tone,  quite  hurriedly,  and  shed 
tears  during  all  the  time  that  she  was  speaking. 

As  soon  as  she  sat  down,  old  Mrs.  Springer  rose. 
She  spoke  very  loudly,  saying :  "  I  hope  I  haint 
ashamed  of  Jesus.  I  hev  been  a  follower  of  the  Lamb 
nigh  about  forty  year.  Though  I  know  that  I  hev 
often  followed  him  afar  off.  I  hev  been  a  soldier  of 
the  cross  just  as  long  as  the  children  of  Israel  was  in 
the  wilderness,  and  like  them  sinful  creeturs,  I  hev 
often  murmured  and  hankered  arter  the  flesh  pots  of 
Egypt,  and  it  is  of  God's  mercy  that  I  haint  been  cut 
down,  and  never  see  the  land  of  Canaan.  But  now  I 
do  hope  to  enter  the  blessed  land  of  promise.  I  hev 
hed  some  precious  seasons,  when  my  heart  has  been 
filled  with  the  presence  of  the  Lord. 

"  And  oh,  my  brethren  and  sisters,  why  isn't  it  alus 
so  ?  Why  are  we  settin'  by  the  cold  streams  of  Baby- 
lon when  we  might  so  easy  git  into  a  more  wealthy 
place.  Arise  and  shine !  Let  us  not  have  a  name  to 
live  and  be  dead !  Oh !  my  friends,  let  us  come 
humble  to  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  confess  our  sins 
and  ask  God  to  give  us  a  blessin'.  Oh  !  that  he  would 
open  the  windows  of  heaven  and  pour  down  a  blessin', 
so  that  we  might  not  be  able  to  contain  it !" 

She  took  her  seat  amid  many  an  audible  token  of 
approval.  A  man  now  arose,  and  after  a  deep  ahem, 
commenced  :  "  My  friends,  I  feel  as  ef — aheui.  My 


96  NOW-A-DAYS. 

friends,  I  feel  as  ef" — here  he  paused  and  spit  upon 
the  floor.  "I  feel  as  ef  the  Lord  was  very  near  to 
me — ahem.  I  feel  as  ef  I  alus  wanted  him  to  be  very 
near  to  me,  and  I  think,  ef  I  know  my  own  heart,  that  I 
feel  anxious  fur  a  revival — ahem.  I  feel  as  ef  I  must 
see  some  of  the  outpourings  of  the  Spirit  here.  I 
feel  as  ef  we  had  said  *  peace  !  peace !'  when  there 
was  no  peace ;  and  I  feel  as  ef  we  had  forgotten  the 
God  of  our  salvation,  and  I  hope  we  shall  all  feel  like 
goin'  for'ard  and  doin'  our  duty,  and  alus  do  with  our 
might  what  our  hands  find  to  do." 

A  short  pause  ensued  after  he  had  concluded,  upon 
which  Elder  Eider  observed  that  he  hoped  "  no  time 
would  be  wasted." 

A  tall,  spare  woman  now  addressed  them,  saying 
"  I  hope  I  feel  thankful  fur  another  opportunity  of 
meetin'  my  Christian  friends.  I  think  1  can  say  that 
the  conference  room  is  alus  a  pleasant  place  to  me. 
I  think  I  can  say  that  the  language  of  Canaan  is  what 
I  delight  to  hear.  Yes,  my  dear  friends,  I  think  I 
can  say  '  Your  people  are  my  people,  and  your  God 
my  God.'  Oh  my  friends.  I  wouldn't  go  back  to  the 
world  fur  nuthin.  I  hed  ruther  '  be  a  doorkeeper  in 
the  house  of  my  God  than  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of 
wickedness.'  I  feel  a  union  with  all  the  church,  and 
I  hope  you  will  all  pray  for  me." 

After  she  had  seated  herself,  a  man  got  up,  remark- 
ing, "  I  don't  know  as  I  hev  got  anything  to  say  that 
will  edify  any  body.  I  wisht  I  coiild  say  that  I  hed  hed 
any  of  those  precious  seasons  that  some  of  my  Chris- 
tian friends  has  spoke  on,  but  I  hev  not.  I  feel  that  I 


THE    CONFKKENCE.  97 

can  say  '  Oh  that  it  were  with  me  as  in  months  past, 
when  the  candle  of  the  Lord  shone  round  about  me.' 
I  don't  know  as  I  hev  much  to  say,  except  that  it 
makes  my  heart  glad  to  hear  from  my  Christian 
friends,  and  I  hope  that  they  will  pray  for  me  that  I 
may  be  made  partaker  of  their  joys." 

Immediately  on  his  seating  himself,  a  short,  but 
stoutly  built  man  succeeded  him.  He  began — "  My 
friends,  Ihev'just  come  home  from  Patten,  and  they 
are  hevin'  a  revival  of  God's  work  among  them.  Their 
hearts  are  filled  with  the  love  of  God,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  seems  pouring  out  his  blessings  in  abundant 
showers.  I  went  to  their  meetins,  and  it  made  my 
heart  leap  for  joy,  to  see  Christians  filled  with  the 
love  of  God  and  pointin'  out  to  anxious  inquirin'  sin- 
ners the  way  to  Jesus.  But  oh  !  it  makes  me  feel  sad 
to  find  all  so  dead  and  cold  here.  '  Why  should  the 
children  of  a  king  go  mournin'  all  their  days  ?'  Why 
are  we  passed  over  ?  I  am  afeard  it  is  because  we  do 
not  put  ourselves  in  the  way  of  it.  Too  many  on  us 
is  took  up  with  the  follies  and  vanities  of  this  world. 
Too  many  on  us  is  only  stumblin'  blocks  in  the  way 
of  sinners.  Too  many  on  us  is  like  dumb  dogs.  My 
brethren  and  sisters,  these  things  ought  not  so  to  be. 
Oh  !  that  the  Lord  would  draw  nigh  to  '  this  vine 
which  he  has  planted  in  the  wilderness,'  that  this 
branch  of  his  Zion  might  be  lifted  up.  Oh  my  breth- 
ren and  sisters,  let  us  be  livin'  '  epistles,  known  and 
read  of  all  men.'  Let  us  humble  ourselves,  and  the 
Lord  will  lift  us  up.  Let  us  so  live  that  men  '  may 
5 


98  NOW-A-DAYS. 

take  knowledge   of    us,   that   we    have    been   with 
Jesus.' " 

Elder  Rider  rose  as  Mr.  Haley  sat  down,  and  said 
that  it  was  nearly  time  to  close  the  meeting.  He 
made  a  few  remarks  of  encouragement  to  those  who 
seemed  depressed,  and  pointed  all  to  that  never-failing 
fountain  set  open  for  sin  and  uncleanness.  His  earn- 
est words  were  received  with  audible  tokens  of  ap- 
proval, as  had  been  frequently  the  case  during  the 
remarks  of  the  other  speakers,  "  bless  the  Lord"  and 
"Amen"  being  the  expressions  most  in  use.  After 
this  they  sung  a  hymn,  commencing — 

"  What  ship  is  this  you  see,  that  is  DOW  sailing  by  ? 

Ob,  glory,  hallelujah  ! 
What  ship  is  this  you  see,  that  comes  sailing  by  t 

Oh,  glory,  hallelujah ! 
Tis  the  old  ship  of  Zion,  hallelujah ! 
Tis  the  old  ship  of  Zion,  hallelujah  !" 

All  joined  in  this,  one  or  two  of  the  old  ladies  sing- 
ing a  most  indescribable  part,  called  counter,  which 
did  not  seem  to  have  anything  in  common  with  the 
tune.  The  discord,  however,  did  not  seem  to  disturb 
any  one.  On  the  conclusion  of  the  hymn,  the  meet- 
ing was  closed  by  a  prayer  offered  by  the  Elder,  and 
the  good  people  scattered  slowly,  talking  with  their 
friends  who  lived  at  a  distance,  and  expressing  their 
pleasure  in  the  meeting. 

The  Sabbath  school  was  now  called  to  order,  a  d 
Mr.  Rider  expressed  himself  well  pleased  with  the 
progress  of  the  pupils,  and  with  the  evident  interest 
which  they  manifested.  As  it  began  to  grow  dark, 
there  was  but  a  short  session,  however. 


THE   CONFERENCE.  Vy 

"  Elder  Eider's  a  blessed  man!"  remarked  Elvira, 
as,  with  Esther,  she  walked  homeward,  after  the  Sab- 
bath school  was  over. 

"  I  should  think  he  was  calculated  to  do  a  great 
deal  of  good,"  replied  Esther.  "  But,  Elvira,"  she 
continued,  "  how  is  it  that  so  many  responded  aloud 
this  afternoon,  since  this  is  a  Baptist  church?  I 
thought  only  Methodists  made  use  of  such  expressions 
as  '  Hear,  Lord,'  and  the  like." 

"  Wall,"  answered  Vira,  "  you  see  most  of  the  folks 
here  is  Baptists,  but  some  on  um  is  Methodists,  and  a 
few  on  um  Free-Willers,  and  Christian  Banders  ;  but 
bein  as  there  is  so  many  more  Baptists,  they  got  up 
the  church.  Some  of  the  others  jined,  and  some 
didn't ;  but  they  all  go  to  the  same  meetins,  and  the 
Methodists  and  the  rest  keeps  their  own  ways." 

"  The  meeting  this  afternoon  was  a  very  interesting 
one,"  said  Esther,  after  a  pause. 

"  Wall,  yes,"  replied  Yira ;  "  but  then  they  alus 
say  pooty  much  the  same  things.  There's  Haley,  now. 
I  alus  know  jist  how  he  feels,  jist  as  well  afore  he  gits 
up,  as  I  do  when  he  sets  down." 

"  Ah,  Elvira,"  said  Esther,  "  you  should  not  speak 
so.  I  wish  you  were  as  truly  a  Christian  as  Mr. 
Haly," 

"  Wall,  as  to  that,"  retorted  Yira,  "  I  know  I  haint 
so  good  as  I  had  orter  be,  but  I  don't  want  to  swop 
hearts  with  none  on  um.  I  might  get  a  wus  one 
than  mine,  and  that's  needless." 

"  No,  Elvira,  you  need  not  wish  to  exchange  hearts 
with  any  one ;  but  you  do  need  to  give  yourself  to  the 


100  NOW-A-DAYS. 

Saviour.  There  is  a  day  coming  when  you  will  feel 
the  need  of  a  friend  to  guide  you  through  the  dark 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  that  you  may  fear  no 
evil.  Oh,  Elvira,"  continued  Esther,  "  will  you  not 
try  to  become  a  Christian  ?" 

Elvira  made  no  reply,  but  walked  along  silently. 
At  last  she  broke  out,  "  Don't  think  I'm  mad  with 
you,  Miss  Hastings,  I  haint;  but  I  don't  like  to  be 
talked  to  about  religion  by  no  body.  I  never  listen 
to  nobody  but  you,  and  I  do  mean  to  get  religion 
some  time  or  nuther." 

Esther  was  about  to  reply,  but  Elvira  had  left  her 
side,  crossed  the  road,  and  was  talking  to  one  of  her 
friends. 


CHAPTEK  X. 

THE   CAMP. 

THE  weeks  passed  rapidly  away  with  Esther  ;  and 
though  sometimes  she  wearied  of  her  school  duties, 
and  longed  for  more  congenial  society,  still  she  did 
not  regret  the  step  which  she  had  taken.  She  felt 
keenly  the  loss  of  Mrs.  Williams,  in  whom  she  had 
found  sympathy,  and  whose  cheerful  spirit  had  made 
her  ashamed  of  her  occasional  fits  of  depression.  She 
heard  sometimes  from  Margaret,  though  the  mails 
were  unfrequent,  and  she  could  not  receive  letters  so 
often  as  she  wished. 

She  had  just  finished  reading  an  old  letter,  for  the 
twentieth  time,  and  was  now  sitting  on  a  low  seat,  by 
the  fire,  indulging  in  a  pleasant  reverie.  She  was 
just  querying  how  she  should  spend  her  day,  as  it 
was  Saturday,  and  a  holiday,  when  she  was  startled 
by  a  rough  voice — 

"  Mornin,  Miss  Hastings,  whar's  Miss  Simpson?" 
"  Take  a  seat,"  said  Esther,  "  and  I  will  see." 
The  speaker,  a  man  whose  huge  frame  corresponded 
well  with  his  loud  voice,  complied,  and  Esther  left 
the  room  in  search  of  Mrs.  Simpson. 

She  found  the  good  lady  out  feeding  her  pigs,  with 


102  NOW-A-DAY8. 

a  huge  kettle  of  boiled  potatoes,  and  they  speedily 
reentered  the  front  room. 

"  How  are  ye,  Miss  Simpson  ?"  asked  the  stranger, 
as  they  entered. 

"  Wall,  as  usual,"  she  replied,  and  a  pause  ensued, 
while  Mrs.  Simpson  waited  to  hear  what  was  his 
errand. 

"  "Wall,"  said  he,  at  length,  while  the  sputtering  of 
the  fire  greeted  the  snow  which  he  scraped  from  his 
foot  upon  the  andiron,  "  Wall,  I've  come  to  see  if  you 
wouldn't  go  out  to  our  camp.  One  uv  our  men  is 
dreadful  sick  ;  he's  got  the  rheurnatiz,  I  guess.  He 
was  tuk  out  of  his  head  last  night,  and  keeps  hollerin 
arter  his  mother,  and  we  thought  p'raps  he'd  better 
be  brung  out  here.  Ye  see,  he  can't  hev  no  great 
care  out  thar ;  and,  p'raps,  ef  he  see  wimmen  round, 
he  might  be  easier.  We  knowed  you  was  considera- 
ble of  a  doctor,  and  thought,  if  you  could  see  him, 
you  could  tell  whether  or  no  he  had  better  be  fetched 
out.  I've  got  a  horse-sled  here  ;  and  ef  you'll  bundle 
up  warm,  and  go,  I'll  take  you  out  in  less  than  no 
time." 

"  Wall,"  replied  Mrs.  Simpson,  "  I'll  go ;  and  ef  you 
will,  Miss  Hastings,  I  should  like  to  hev  you  go  too." 

Esther  readily  consented,  and  they  were  soon  on 
their  way.  "So  this  is  a  logging  road,"  thought 
Esther,  as  they  entered  a  narrow  opening,  and  she 
saw  a  winding  road,  whose  smooth  polished  surface 
extended  far  ahead.  The  evergreens  on  each  side 
gave  it  a  cheerful  aspect,  and  the  bright  sun  almost 
blinded  her,  as  she  looked  on  the  snowy  pathway.  In 


THE   CAMP.  103 

a  short  time  they  reached  the  camp,  which  was  a  log 
building,  some  eight  feet  in  height  in  front,  but  slop- 
ing down  to  some  three  or  four  feet  in  the  rear.  The 
roof  was  covered  with  shingles,  which  were  confined 
in  their  places  by  poles  laid  across  them.  The  spaces 
between  the  logs  were  made  tight  by  moss.  There 
was  another  similar  building,  though  somewhat  larger, 
standing  near,  which  was  an  ox  hovel,  Esther  was  in- 
formed, a  shelter  for  the  cattle,  as  its  name  indicated. 
At  a  little  distance  was  a  temporary  shed,  used  for 
the  storing  of  hay  and  provisions.  They  entered 
the  camp,  which  their  guide  said  was  a  double  one. 
A  large  fire  was  blazing  in  the  centre  of  the  apart- 
ment ;  the  huge  logs  were  placed  merely  on  stones, 
and  it  seemed  to  Esther  that  there  was  great  danger 
of  its  setting  fire  to  the  camp.  This,  however,  she 
was  told  was  not  common.  A  smoke-hole  was  left 
open  at  the  top  of  the  camp,  and  from  this  was  sus- 
pended a  piece  of  wire,  which  supported  a  kettle  over 
the  fire.  Shelves  were  nailed  at  one  end  of  the  apart- 
ment, upon  which  a  few  dishes,  plates,  tin  dippers,  and 
similar  articles,  were  neatly  arranged.  The  opposite 
end  of  the  room  was  occupied  with  hemlock  and  cedar 
boughs,  the  beds  of  the  lumbermen ;  a  small  pole  laid 
at  the  end  of  these  primitive  beds,  some  four  or  six 
feet  from  the  fire,  and  over  this  pole  a  seat,  called  the 
deacon-seat,  was  built,  upon  which  the  cook,  a  stout 
burly-looking  man,  requested  Esther  to  seat  herself. 
A  few  stools,  which  bore  the  stamp  of  home  manufac- 
ture, composed  the  rest  of  the  furniture. 


104  NOW-A-DAT8. 

Mrs.  Simpson,  meanwhile,  approached  the  sick 
man,  who  was  groaning  as  if  suffering  great  pain. 

"It's  the  acute  rheumatiz,"  said  she,  "and  I  think 
he'd  better  be  got  out  to  our  house  as  soon  as  ever  we 
can  do  it.  We  can  nuss  him  up  thar." 

The  delirious  symptoms  had  apparently  left  him, 
and  he  gladly  assented  to  Mrs.  Simpson's  proposition. 

While  they  warmed  themselves  at  the  huge  fire,  for 
they  were  nearly  chilled  through,  Esther  watched, 
with  some  curiosity,  the  movements  of  the  cook.  He 
had  already  set  his  table,  and  now,  approaching  the 
fire,  began  to  unearth  something,  which  was  com- 
pletely buried  in  the  ashes.  It  proved  to  be  a  large 
iron  vessel,  closely  covered,  which,  she  was  informed, 
was  a  Dutch  oven,  and  whose  smoking  hot  contents 
(baked  beans)  really  looked  quite  inviting.  They  re- 
ceived a  cordial  invitation  to  "  stop  and  git  a  bite," 
but  declined,  as  Mrs.  Simpson  was  anxious  to  get  her 
patient  into  more  comfortable  quarters.  She  accord- 
ingly ordered  the  quilts  and  comforters,  which  she 
had  brought  for  that  purpose,  to  be  arranged  on  the 
sled  ;  and  several  of  his  companions,  lifting  the  sick 
man  with  gentleness  (though  even  their  utmost  care 
could  not  prevent  him  from  suffering  great  pain  at 
the  removal),  placed  him  on  the  sled,  wrell  wrapped 
up  and  protected  from  the  cold.  The  motion  of  the 
sled  over  the  smooth  ground  was  so  easy,  that  it  did 
not  seem  to  disturb  him  much  ;  he  fell  into  an  uneasy 
sleep,  and  but  little  was  said  by  any  one. 

Suddenly  the}'  heard  a  creaking,  groaning  sound, 
and  soon  saw,  emerging  from  a  branch  road,  the  cause 


THE   CAMP.  105 

of  the  noise.  A  bob-sled,  drawn  slowly  by  six  or 
eight  oxen,  to  which  a  huge  pine  log  was  fastened, 
and  which  groaned  and  creaked,  as  if  it  had  forebod- 
ings of  its  future  fate,  so  poetically  described  by  "Whit- 
tier — 

"  Down,  the  -wild  March  flood  shall  bear  them 

To  the  saw-mill's  wfyeel, 
Or  where  steam,  the  slave,  shall  tear  them 

With  his  teeth  of  steel" 

The  log  was  partly  stripped  of  its  bark,  as  it  had 
been  hewn  from  that  part  of  it  which  was  drawn  along 
on  the  snow  ;  it  was  fastened  by  chains,  whose  rattling, 
with  the  loud  cries  of  the  teamster  to  his  oxen,  re- 
sounded through  the  forest. 

They  had  hardly  got  out  of  hearing  of  the  team, 
when  a  loud  report  caused  Esther  to  start,  exclaiming, 
in  some  alarm  "  What  is  that  ?" 

"  Wall,"  replied  the  driver,  transferring  his  quid  of 
tobacco  from  one  cheek  to  the  other,  "  that's  the  logs 
rollin'  down  the  sides  of  a  mounting.  They're  takin1 
out  timber  on  a  ridge  whar  they  can't  haul  urn  down 
— it's  too  steep — and  so  they  haul  um  to  the  aidge  of 
the  hill,  and  let  um  drive — makes  a  thunderin'  loud 
crash,  don't  it,  you  ?  I  like  to  see  um  go,  I  tell  ye — 
but  they  look  the  pootiest  on  a  dry  sluice-way — " 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  Esther. 

"  Wall,  that's  whar  the  timber  is  in  a  steep  place, 
too,  and  we  lay  logs  down,  so  as  not  to  let  the  pines 
roll  off,  and  start  um  along." 

"You  make  an  inclined  plane,  I  suppose,"  said 
Esther. 

5* 


106  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"Oh,  no;  we  don't  plane  the  sluice-way,  'taint 
made  o'  boards,"  returned  her  companion,  "  straight 
logs  is  what  we  make  it  on,  and  I  tell  ye,  it  goes 
swift ;  the  bark  and  smoke  flies  well,  and  it  drives 
ahead  like  blazes,  and  drives  head  foremost  into  the 
snow,  at  the  fut  of  the  hill." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  rather  dreary  in  the 
woods,  in  winter,"  said  Esther. 

"  Wall,  it  taint — the  work  is  hard,  but  we  like  it, 
and  when  it  comes  night,  we  spin  yarns,  sing  songs, 
and  play  ceards — but  our  boss  don't  want  no  ceard- 
playin'  in  the  camp,  this  winter,  and  so  we  gin  it  up. 
— Sunday's  rather  a  long  day  ;  but  we  mend  our  close, 
and  some  on  us  reads,  and  some  on  us  goes  a  gunnin' 
and  some  on  us  goes  a  visitin'  to  the  nighest  camp — 
we  lay  abed  pooty  late,  too,  and  so  we  manage  to 
wear  it  off ;  but  I'm  allus  glad  when  it  comes  Monday 
agin." 

"  Do  you  ever  drive  logs  down  river  ?"  asked  Es- 
ther, after  a  pause. 

"  Lord,  yes  indeed  !  and  that's  jist  one  o'  the  things 
that  I  like  fust-rate.  'Taint  allus  so  pooty  fun  to  git 
the  logs  out  when  they  git  in  a  jam,  but,  somehow  or 
anuther,  I  like  it,  arter  all ;  its  rayther  exciting " 

"  And  dangerous,  too,  isn't  it  ?"  interrupted  Esther. 

"  Wall,  I  s'pose  they  is  danger — yes,  I've  knowed 
many  a  fust-rate  feller  to  git  his  death  on  the  river. 
Tha*  was  Tom  Davis,  as  jolly  a  soul  as  ever  I  see  in  a 
camp.  He  was  in  the  same  drive  with  me  last  winter, 
and  when  we  come  to  drive  down  the  logs,  they  got 
into  a  jam  at  Slugundy  Falls.  We  hed  worked  there 


THE    CAMP.  107 

a  day,  and  it  was  a  pooty  sight,  I  tell  you,  to  see  them 
master  great  logs  piled  up  every  which  way,  and  the 
water  dashin'  through  like  lightnin' — Tom  see  a  log 
that  he  thought  if  he  chopped  in  two,  would  let  the 
jam  start,  and  he  tuk  an  axe,  and  went  at  it.  He 
hadn't  struck  more'n  three  blows,  when  all  on  a  sud- 
dent,  the  jam  started.  Tom,  he  started  to  run,  but 
'twan't  no  use ;  them  great  logs  whirled  round  like 
straws,  and  snapped  like  splinters,  and  the  water 
roared  so,  you  could  a  heerd  it  miles.  Poor  Tom 
was  drownded,  and  when  we  got  him  out,  he  was 
tore  and  bruised  dreadful  bad;  his  own  mother 
wouldn't  a  knowed  him.  We  buried  the  poor  feller, 
and  nobody  knows  whose  turn  will  come  next. — 
Whoahoa !"  he  called  out  to  his  horse,  as  they  stop- 
ped at  Mrs.  Simpson's  door. 

Mr.  Simpson,  who  was  at  the  other  side  of  the 
road,  sitting  on  a  horse,  as  it  is  called,  shaving  shin- 
gles, approached,  and  with  the  assistance  of  one  or 
two  of  the  neighbors,  bore  the  sick  man  into  the 
house,  and  placed  him  in  bed. 

"  I  s'pose  they  hain't  work  enough  to  be  done  al- 
ready, in  this  house,"  said  Elvira,  as  Esther  entered 
the  kitchen,  "  and  so  Miss  Simpson    has  gone  and 
fetched  a  sick  man  fur  me  to  wait  upon." 
"  He  ought  to  be  taken  care  of,"  said  Esther. 
"  Wall,  of  cose  ;.  I  haint  a  fool ;  I  know  that,  but 
why  on  airth  didn't  some  o'  the  neighbors  take  him  ?" 
"  Mrs.  Simpson  is  so  good  a  nurse,  and  you  can  help 
her,  too,  so  well,  I  suppose  they  thought  he  could  be 
better  taken  care  of  here,"  replied  Miss  Hastings. 


108  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  Wall,  I  s'pose  it  can't  be  helped,"  returned  Elvira, 
somewhat  mollified,  "  but  she  might  hev  jist  named 
it  to  me." 

"  She  went  away  in  a  great  hurry,"  said  Esther. 

"  Wall,  it's  all  over,  now,"  continued  Elvira,  "  and 
what  can't  be  cured,  must  be  endured." 

After  this  little  ebullition  was  over,  Elvira  hastened 
to  offer  her  assistance,  and  through  the  long  and 
tedious  illness  of  the  sick  man,  watched  over  him  with 
untiring  patience  and  care.  Esther,  too,  as  often  as 
her  school  duties  would  allow,  offered  her  services, 
and  the  invalid  was  slowly  recovering. 


CHAPTEK  XI. 

AN   EVENING   WITH  THE    LUMBERMEN. 

IT  was  terribly  cold  out  of  doors  ;  one  of  those  still, 
freezing  nights,  that  does  so  much  greater  execution 
than  the  wild  and  blustering  ones ;  just  as  a  self- 
wilted,  though  quiet  man  can  effect  so  much  more 
tharnhi.impetuous,  but  unsteady  one. 

But  tne  cold  did  not  penetrate  into  the  camp, 
where  it  stood  surrounded  by  snow-covered  stumps 
and  trees,  whose  evergreen  hue  contrasted  well  with 
the  white  surface  around  them ;  the  clear  moon 
lighted  up  with  a  silvery  tinge  their  boughs,  laden  with 
feathery  flakes,  for  there  had  been  a  violent  storm, 
and  the  snow  had  not  yet  fallen  from  the  branches. 

It  was  not  a  night  which  would  tempt  one  out  of 
doors,  but  within  the  log-camp  all  was  light  and 
cheerful. 

The  men,  having  had  their  suppers,  were  gathered 
round  the  blazing  fire,  some  sitting  on  the  deacon 
seat,  others  on  stools,  in  different  parts  of  the  room. 
A  rough,  but  manly-looking  set  were  they!  Dressed 
in  their  somewhat  picturesque  costume  of  red  flannel 
shirt,  and  a  pair  of  pantaloons,  their  vigorous  forms 
unfettered  by  suspenders,  or  anything  binding,  they 


110  NOW-A-DAYS. 

looked  well  fitted  to  be  the  pioneers  of  civilization — 
well  suited  to  their  work  in  the  free,  broad  forests — 
each  looked  every  inch  a  man.  The  voices  of  most 
of  them  were  deep  and  clear,  like  the  ring  of  their 
own  axes  on  the  stout  pines,  and  nearly  all  had  shrewd 
and  intelligent  faces,  that  fitted  well  with  their  pow- 
erful and  muscular  frames.  Many  of  them  were 
smoking,  but  the  greater  number  were  chewing 
tobacco.  They  were  talking  cheerfully  together  on 
various  subjects. 

"  Talk  about  trees  !"  exclaimed  an  athletic  fellow, 
rather  below  the  middle  height,  emitting  a  whiff  of 
tobacco  smoke  from  his  nostrils,  as  he  took  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  "  that  haint  a  sarcumstance  to  one 
that  Bob  Sykes  and  I  felled  last  winter.  Why,  it 
scaled  nine  thousand  feet — a  pumpkin  pine,  none  of 
your  conkusy  stuff — clear  as  a  ten-foot  snow-drift  in 
the  middle " 

"  Caan't  you  make  it  ten,  Bill,  so's  to  make  it  even 
numbers?"  asked  a  tall,  fine-looking  fellow,  in  a  tone 
that  indicated  some  little  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the 
last  speaker's  story.  "  Neow  dew,  jist  to  acommo- 
date!" 

"It's  true,  as  I  hope  to  holler,  Tompkins,"  replied 
Bill,  "  I'll  take  my  Bible  oath  on't," 

"  Oh,  I  haint  no  sort  o'  doubt  on't,"  replied  Tomp- 
kins, "  fur  I  see  a  tree  onct  that  scaled  twelve  thou- 
sand  » 

"Phew!"  interrupted  Bill;  but  Tompkins  pro- 
ceeded, "  and  Sam  Slocum  and  I  chopped  that  are 
down  in  less  than  an  hour  ;  to  be  sure  he  was  a  d d 


AN    EVENING   WITH    THE   LUMBERMEN.  Ill 

smart  chopper,  and  if  I  dew  say  it  myself,  I'm 
some" 

"  Eayther  smart,  ^  should  say.  Neow,  what's  the 
use  o'  lyin' !"  exclaimed  Bill,  as  a  loud  shout  from  all 
present,  indicated  that  the  object  of  this  extravagant 
story  was  appreciated,  "  but  if  you  dew  lie,  'taint  no 
sign  that  everybuddy  else  does.  Talk  about  choppers ! 
— I've  seen  Sam  Slocum." 

"  Then  you've  seen  a  devilish  smart  feller." 

"  He's  wall  enuf,  but  he  haint  a  primin'  to  Bob 
Sykes." 

"  Neow,  git  eout  with  your  long  yarns,  and  all-fired 
stories,"  interrupted  Tompkins. 

"  Tell  as  big  a  one  as  I'm  a  mind  teu,  you  allus 
beat  it,"  rejoined  Bill,  "  but  that's  coz  I  stick  teu  the 
truth,  and  yeou  draw  on  your  imagination,  and  there's 
a  never-failin'  spring  thar,  I  swan  to  man." 

"  Bill,  you  must  do  as  the  Yankee  that  went  to 
New  York  did,"  said  a  man  who  had  been  reading  a 
newspaper,  and  who  had  not  before  taken  part  in  the 
conversation. 

"  How  was  that,  Clark  ?" 

"  Got  a  patent  right  for  lyin',  I  s'pose,"  exclaimed 
Tompkins. 

"  No,"  sajd  Clark,  "  he  advertised  that  he'd  got  the 
biggest  oxen  in  the  world.  Somebody  asked  him 
how  much  they  measured.  He  straightened  up  in 
his  boots- — six  feet  two,  he  stood  in  his  stockings — 
and  says  he,  '  Cetch  me  to  tell  that !  Guess  I'm  cuter 
than  that  comes  teu !  Ef  I  was  to  say  one  on  um 
girted  twelve  feet,  some  long  Yankee  or  nnther  would 


112  NOW-A-DAYS. 

be  sayin'  he'd  got  a  pair  that  girted  fourteen.  Neon, 
I  say,  I've  got  the  biggest  in  the  world ;  if  any 
Yankee  kin  beat  that,  let  him  come  on.'  " 

Bill  did  not  appear  at  all  dismayed  at  the  hits  of 
his  companions,  for  he  was  a  notorious  "bragger." 
The  story  only  diverted  his  attention  to  oxen,  and  he 
began,  "  Wall,  I  hev  seen  some  mighty  pooty  cattle 
in  my  day." 

"  So  hev  I,"  interrupted  John,  the  teamster,  "  but 
I'll  stump  anybody  to  keep  a  team  in  better  order, 
and  do  more  work  with  um  than  I  kin  with  my  crit- 
ters; them's  as  likely  cattle  as  ever  was  in  these 
diggins." 

"  Hosses  is  better  than  oxen,  in  the  woods,"  said 
Bill. 

"  Wall,  neou,  they  haint,  in  my  way  of  thinkin' ; 
they  may  be  spryer,  but  they  haint  got  the  wear  to 
um  that  oxen  hev." 

"Oh,  wall,"  replied  Bill,  "use  um  up,  and  get 
more,  that's  what  I  say." 

"  Neou,  that's  what  I  call  abusin'  God's  creturs," 
exclaimed  the  teamster,  who,  like  many  of  his  class, 
would  have  infinitely  preferred  overtasking  himself, 
to  his  cattle. 

"  Wall,"  interrupted  the  newspaper  reader,  "  if  it 
hurts  your  feelins  so,  to  use  up  dumb  cattle,  what  do 
you  say  to  some  of  them  slave-holders,  that  do  the 
same  to  men  and  women  ?" 

"  Oh,  d n  the  niggers,"  replied  John,  "  you're 

allus  luggin'  them  in  ;  can't  you  let  one  night  go, 
without  goin'  over  that  old  story  ?" 


AN    EVENING    WITH   THE   LUMBKRMEN.  113 

"  No,  I  can't,  nor  I  won't,"  answered  Clark,  his 
bronzed  face  lighting  up,  "  when  that  infernal  system 
is  being  helped  along  by  the  votes  of  such  men  as  we 
are.  when  men  with  just  such  bodies  and  souls  as  we 
have,  are  sold  like  brutes,  separated  from  their  fam- 
ilies, and  dragged  the  Lord  only  knows  whare." 

"  Oh,  be  hanged  to  it !  It  haint  none  of  my  busi- 
ness !  I  haint  got  nothin'  to  deu  with  it,  nohow.  I 
don't  buy  um  nor  sell  um,  nor  wouldn't  hev  nothin' 
to  deu  with  um,  nohow  yeou  can  fix  it,"  said  John. 

"  But  you  do  support  the  system  by  voting  for  men 
who  do  their  best  to  extend  it,  by  annexing  Slave 
States,  and  all  such  measures,"  replied  Clark. 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  democrat,  dyed  in  the  wool,  and  I  go 
fur  the  reg'lar  nominee — no  splittin'  fur  me — union 
is  strength  ;  and  as  to  my  vote,  'taint  of  no  great 
account  here — why,  did  you  hear  how  Josh  Emer- 
son got  'lected  ?" 

"  No  I    How  was  it  ?" 

"  Why,  he  kept  a  kind  of  a  shanty,  where  the  lum 
bermen  stowed  their  supplies,  and  the  'lection  was 
thar,  and  between  votin',  they  would  liker  up,  you 
see.  Wall,  they  kep  one  man  watchin  the  hat  where 
they  threw  their  votes,  but  onct  the  feller  left  it  and 
kivered  it  up  with  a  pocket  handkercher.  Wall,  some- 
buddy,  unbeknownst,  watched  their  chance,  and  when 
the  assessor  got  back,  the  hat  was  rammed  full  of 
votes  for  Emerson.  'Oh,  that's  too  devilish  bad!' 
says  the  assessor,  so  he  put  in  his  hand  and  took  eout 
a  decent  handful,  and  sez  he,  '  I  guess  that's  about 
right ;  count  the  rest.'  So  Josh  got  in  by  a  swampin' 


114  NOW-A-DAYS. 

majority.  They  sot  out  to  contest  his  seat,  but  he 
hed  sich  an  awful  majority  that  they  gin  it  up.  So, 
one  vote  thar  did't  amount  to  much." 

Tompkins  squirted  a  vast  amount  of  tobacco  juice 
from  between  his  teeth  into  the  fire  with  excellent 
aim. — "My  opinion  on  slavery,"  said  he,  "  is  jist  this 
— I  ask,  is  it  allowed  in  the  Constitution  ?  Ef  it  is,  I 
go  fur  it,  ef  it  'taint  I  don't.  Neou,  I  say  it  was ; 
all  the  old  patriots,  great  men  like  Washington  and 
Jefferson,  understood  that  it  was  so.  Neou,  don't  you 
think  yourself,  Clark,  that,  notwithstandin'  the  word 
slave  haint  mentioned  in  the  Constitution,  it  was  a 
mutual  understandin'  that  the  South  should  keep  their 
slaves?" 

"  Wall,  I  might  screw  around  that,"  replied  Clark, 
"  but  I'll  come  to  the  pint :  I  do  think  so,  but  I  think 
too,  that  it  was  looked  upon  as  an  evil  by  those  men, 
and  as  inconsistent  with  their  views  of  a  republic, 
and  they  would  hev  been  glad  to  hev  got  rid  on't,  but 
they  didn't  know  how ;  they  thought  'twould  die  out ; 
they  all  said  as  much,  and  if  the  Constitution  don't 
condemn  holding  slaves,  it  taint  for  extendin'  the 

d d  system,  nuther,  and  I'm  down  on  that,  and, 

furthermore,  as  to  ketchin'  their  slaves  that  run  away, 
I'll  be  d d  if  I  do  sich  dirty  work  as  that." 

"  Wall,  I'm  with  you  thar,"  said  Tompkins,  "  fur 
I'll  be  hanged,  if  arter  a  feller  has  got  pluck  enuf  to 
run  for  his  life  and  liberty,  ef  he  shouldn't  hev  it  fur 
all  of  me.  But  the  most  of  them  slaves  is  lazy,  shift- 
less, cowardly  dogs." 

"  Who  wonders  at  it!"  asked  Clark,  "I  guess  you'd 


AN    EVENING   WITH   THE   LUMBERMEN.  115 

be  lazy,  ten,  if  you  only  got  what  you  had  to  eat,  and 
drink,  and  wear  fur  your  work,  and  not  allus  enuf  of 
that !" 

"  Oh,  the  devil !  There  haint  many  of  the  slaves 
treated  that  are  way,  and  ef  they  was,  that  is  all  I 
git  for  my  work — jist  what  I  kin  eat,  drink,  and  wear 
— neou,  ef  I  was  rich,  like  some  of  these  ere  fellers 
that  live  like  pigs  in  clover,  why  then  yeou  might 
talk ;  but  I'm  a  slave  myself — I  hev  to  work  like  a 
dog,  and  don't  get  no  great  pay." 

"  Pshaw  !  you  get  good  wages — then,  the  work  suits 
you. — Why,  you'd  rave  like  a  tiger,  to  be  shut  up  in  a 
store,  measurin'  tape,  or  sellin'  barrels  of  flour,  ef 
you  was  a  rich  man.  Rich  men  are  slaves  to  their 
money  bags ;  twistin',  turnin',  screwiii',  plannin'  to 
make  more,  and  keep  what  they've  got.  They  haint 
no  happier  than  we  are." 

"Wall,"  said  Tompkins,  "I  wouldn't  object  to 
tryin  my  hand  at  it  a  spell,  anyhow :  wouldn't  I  cut 
a  dash!" 

"  I  cum  plaguey  nigh  bein'  rich  onct,  myself,"  said 
Bill. 

"  How  was  that  ? — A  speculation  ?"  asked  Clark. 

"  Not  'xactly,"  replied  Bill.  "  Not  the  ushil  kind 
of  speculation,  though  it  was  rayther  in  that  line. 
Ye  see,  I  cum  mighty  near  marryin'  a  rich  gal,  and 
a  pooty  gal,  teu." 

"  Well,  what  hindered  you?"  inquired  Tompkins, 
looking  at  Bill's  huge  and  awkward  frame,  as  if  he 
thought  him  better  suited  to  any  character  than  that 
of  a  lady's  man. 


116  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  Why,  ye  see,  I  got  acquainted  with  a  gal  of  that 
kind,  and  arter  stayin'  around  a  spell,  and  doin'  up 
the  courtin'  a  leetle,  I  cum  to  the  pint — I  axed  her  ef 
she'd  hev  me — sez  she,  '  I'd  rather  be  excused,'  and  I, 
like  a  d d  fool,  excused  her." 

A  roar  of  laughter  greeted  Bill's  brief  account  of 
his  love-affair,  and  the  conversation  turned  on  the 
beauty  of  women. 

"  Wall,  neou,  that's  a  pooty  gal  eout  to  Simpson's ; 
that  are  schoolmarm,  that  was  eout  here  yesterday 
with  the  old  'ooman,"  said  Tompkins,  "  she's  a  trig- 
built,  good-lookin'  gal;  got  a  dreadful  pooty  foot, 
ten." 

"  Wall,  I  don't  say  but  what  she  hez,"  said  a  man 
who  had  not  taken  much  interest  in  the  previous  con- 
versation, "  but  I've  seen  dreadful  many  enuf  sight 
pootier  than  her.  She  caan't  hold  a  candle  to  a  gal 
that  I  know  on.  That  are  gal  is  as  straight  as  a  pine 
tree,  and  her  skin  and  teeth  is  as  white  as  the  heart 
of  one,  and  jist  the  pootiest  pair  of  eyes  that  ever  you 
did  see ;  as  smart  as  a  steel  trap,  teu,  she  is,  I  tell  ye." 

"  Oh,  git  eout !"  exclaimed.  John,  the  teamster, 
"  the  wimmin  is  jist  like  colts :  look  dredful  pooty 
and  frisky  in  the  fields,  loose ;  but  the  devil  and  ail 
in  harness.  Take  my  adwice  :  don't  hev  nothin'  to  do 
with  um !  Let  um  alone !  Don't  hitch  yourself  to 
none  on  um !" 

"  Break  urn  in  ! — break  um  in  !"  said  Tompkins. 
"  Them  frisky  ones  is  jist  the  best  kind,  ef  ye  only 
keep  a  taut  rein  on  um." 

"  'Taint  so  easy  doin'  on't,"  replied  John,  shaking 


AN    EVENING    WITH   THE    LUMBERMEN.  117 

his  head,  sorrowfully ;  "  they're  the  head-strongest 
jades !  They'll  take  the  bits  right  into  their  teeth,  and 
off  they  go,  and  ef  you  holler  whoa  ever  so  much, 
they'll  kick  up  their  heels  the  more,  and  tear  off  the 
Lord  only  knows  whar." 

"  I  guess  John  speaks  from  experience,"  said  Clark. 

"  Wall,  I  don't  say  but  what  I  deu.  When  it  cums 
to  breakin'  in  critters,  horse  or  ox,  I  won't  giv  in  to 
nobody  ;  but  ef  anybuddy  kin  head  off,  my  old  woman, 
when  she's  got  sot  a  sartin  \vay,  I'll  giv  in  beat,  fur 
he  kin  deu  more  than  I  kin." 

John  settled  back  in  his  seat,  whistling  in  true 
Yankee  fashion,  while  he  whittled  out  a  goad  stick. 
A  man  near  him,  was  fitting  a  handle  to  an  axe,  as 
the  original  one  had  been  broken ;  he  felt  the  keen 
edge,  and  looked  at  the  polished  steel  with  no  little 
pride.  "  Neon,  that  are,  is  what  I  call  a  good  axe," 
said  he,  "  though  'taint  quite  ekil  to  one  I  had  onct 
I  don't  like  braggin,  but  I  will  say,  give  me  that  are 
axe,  and  I'll  agree  to  take  the  heart  of  any  tree  from 
any  man,  I  don't  kear  who  he  is." 

"  Wall,"  replied  Bill,  "  'taint  so  much  the  axe,  in 
my  way  of  thinkin',  that  makes  the  odds,  as  the  man 
that  stands  behind  it ;  though  tools  does  a  good  deal, 
arter  all." 

"  That  are  axe  1  was  speakin'  on,"  continued  the 
first  speaker,  "is  layin  in  the  Penobscot,  I  'spect, 
there  to  Passadunky;  that's  an  all-fired  place  fur 
jams.  Did  you  ever  drive,  on  that  are  river?" 

"  Wall,  I  rayther  guess  I  hev,"  was  the  reply,  "  and 
T  guess  I've  worked  some  getting  off  jams  thar.  It's 


118  NOW-A-DAYS.. 

a  ugly  lookin'  sight,  enuf  to  make  a  saint  swear,  to 
see  them  logs  pile  up  every  way  ;  standin'  up  straight, 
in  the  air,  and  the  water  tizziii'  through  like  a  mill- 
tail,  frothin'  and  roarin'.  'Taint  so  pooty  fun,  nuther, 
to  stand  up  to  your  waist  in  stun  cold  water,  workin' 
and  pryin'  them  are  logs  till  you  don't  know  whether 
you've  got  any  legs  or  not." 

"  Wall",  that  haint  so  pooty,"  said  his  companion, 
"  but  I  like  river-drivin',  howsomever  ;  it's  lively-like, 
and  I  allus  like  to  strike  the  blow  that  starts  the  jam  ; 
but  I  cum  mighty  nigh  loosin'  my  life,  that  time  that 
I  lost  my  axe ;  I  thought  then,  sure  enuf  that  I  was  a 
goner.  I  hedn't  gin  but  one  blow,  when  snap,  crack 
went  the  log  that  hung  up  the  jam,  and  all  the  rest 
came  whirlin'  and  rushin'  ahead,  eend  over  eend, 
some  on  um  snappin'  like  pipe-stems.  I  was  master 
sorry  to  lose  that  axe,  but  I  gin  it  a  fling  and  sprang 
for  my  life.  I've  seen  many  a  jam,  but  that  was  the 
beaturnest.  There  was  ten  acres  of  logs,  and  we  hed 
been  to  work  most  three  days  tryin'  to  get  um  off, 
and  ye  see  the  water  hed  riz  behind  um  mighty  high, 
so  when  they  did  go  all  of  a  suddent,  it  was  som^ 
I  tell  ye.  I  guess  I  made  some  mighty  smart  leaps 
from  one  teeterin',  whirlin',  slippery  log  to  another; 
wall,  none  of  the  fellers  ever  expected  to  see  me 
ashore  alive  agin,  and  I  was  as  much  astonished  as 
they  was,  to  git  out  safe.  'Twas  a  narrow  squeak, 
I  tell  ye.  But  I  'spect  my  time  hedn't  cum,"  he 
concluded. 

"River  drivin'  is  the  pootiest  part  of  loggin', I 
think,"  said  one. 


AN   EVENIG    WITH    THK    LUMBERMEN,  119 


"  They  haint  npfl  of  work  that  suits  me  better," 
said  Tompkius.  "  It  looks  so  good  to  see  urn  sailin' 
along,  clean  out  of  sight  ;  and  ef  the  jams  is  bad,  why 
I  spose  we  should  git  tired  of  chasin'  arter  a  drive,  and 
never  havin'  no  variety.  I  never  git  used  to  a  jam. 
It  alus  makes  me  as  lively  as  a  cricket.  I  don't  get 
as  mad  as  a  March  hare,  like  some  of  your  fellers,  if 
they  do  happen  to  git  hung  up,  that  is,  ef  taint  out  of 
all  reason  afore  they  start  agin." 

"Hark!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Bill  ;  "Iheerd  sleigh 
bells  ;"  and  almost  before  he  had  ceased  speaking,  the 
rapid  tread  of  ahorse,  with  the  jingling  of  sleigh-bells, 
was  heard,  and,  with  a  loud  whoop,  the  driver  reined 
up  at  the  camp. 

"That's  Jim  Gordon,  I  know,"  exclaimed  Tomp- 
kins,  as  the  door  opened,  and  a  stout  burly-looking 
man  entered. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  boys?"  he  ejaculated,  in  a  loud  and 
hearty  tone,  while  John  started  out  to  take  charge  of 
the  horse. 

"  A  pooty  piece  of  horseflesh,"  said  John  to  himself, 
as  he  proceeded  in  his  self-appointed  task. 

"  I  guess  you've  hed  to  travel  some"  he  ejaculated, 
as  he  saw  that  the  animal,  notwithstanding  the  intense 
cold,  was  reeking  with  sweat.  "  Wall,  now,  he  don't 
know  how  to  use  a  creetur.  He  must  alus  go  like  the 
wind.  I'd  defy  the  devil  himself  to  catch  him,  in  a 
fair  race." 

While  John  was  thus  soliloquizing,  the  new  comer 
(who  was  no  less  a  person  than  the  proprietor  of  the 
logging  operations),  having  somewhat  refreshed  him- 


120  NOW-A-DAYS. 


self  bj  a  glass  of  brandy,  v  he  took  from  a 

pocket  flask  which  he  carried  with  him,  and  set  the 
cook  to  work  to  get  him  some  supper)  was  edifying 
all  present  by  his  cheerful  jokes,  and  frank,  bold  man- 
ners. 

He  was  a  man  of  the  middle  height,  and  quite  stout, 
even  after  taking  off  the  huge  buffalo  coat  in  which 
he  was  attired.  He  was  perfectly  straight,  had  a 
good  head,  an  abundance  of  light-brown  bushy  hair, 
a  fine  forehead,  quick,  good-humored  blue  eyes,  and  a 
firmly  compressed  mouth,  to  which  his  somewhat 
prominent  teeth  gave  a  still  more  determined  expres- 
sion. He  looked  like  a  man  whom  no  obstacle  could 
daunt,  and  such  in  truth  he  was. 

He  was  famed,  far  and  near,  for  his  untiring  energy, 
whether  it  was  in  business  or  in  pleasure.  A  perfect 
Napoleon  among  lumbermen,  the  most  independent 
of  all  rules  of  society,  rough  and  uncouth  at  times,  yet 
quite  the  gentleman  when  he  chose  ;  the  wildest  and 
merriest  at  a  gander  party  ;  the  shrewdest  and  most 
far-seeing  in  business  transactions,  ever  ready  to  enter 
into  extensive  speculating  operations,  and  as  untiring 
in  carrying  them  out  ;  courageous,  frank,  and  merry, 
he  was  the  idol  of  his  men,  and  ever  greeted  with  de- 
light, in  the  brief  visits  which  he  paid  to  the  many 
different  berths  and  camps  in  his  employ  in  the  woods. 
It  seemed  as  if  he  had  no  idea  of  fatigue.  He  would 
trp.vel  all  day,  dance  and  carouse  all  night,  and  again, 
with  a  clear  head,  start  off  in  the  morning,  his  loud 
shout  to  his  horse  ringing  out  as  he  dashed  off,  at 
headlong  speed  ;  and  as  he  talked  himself  to  the  ut- 


AN    EVENING   WITH   THE    LUMBERMEN.  121 


most,  so  he  expeftll  those  with  whom  he  was  con- 
nected in  any  way  to  do  also. 

"  PooV  cold  out,  haint  it,  Colonel  ?"  said  Clark,  to 
Gordon. 

"  Well,  yes.  The  trees  cracked  and  snapped  like 
pistols;  but  then  we  don't  want  warm  weather  this 
time  of  year." 

"  When  did  you  leave  Bangor  ?" 

"  Day  before  yesterday." 

"You  don't  say  you  cum  through  in  this  last  drivin' 
storm  !" 

"  Yes  I  do,"  replied  the  Colonel,  "I  never  stopped 
for  the  weather  in  my  life  yet,  and  I  should  like  to 
see  the  storm  that  would  keep  me  in,  when  I  wanted 
to  go  anywhere." 

"  Wall,  I  shouldn't,"  replied  Clark,  laughing  ;  "  I 
believe  you  can  stand  rnore'n  any  other  ten  men,  use 
um  one  arter  the  other." 

"I  can  eat  as  much  as  ten  men  to-night,"  replied 
Gordon,  drawing  up  to  the  well-supplied  table,  and 
beginning  to  do  ample  justice  to  the  smoking  hot 
viands  placed  there. 

"  How're  you  getting  on,  Clark  ?"  he  asked  (for 
Clark  was  the  boss  of  the  camp.)  "  Find  good  tim- 
ber here  ?" 

"Fust  rate,"  was  the  reply.  "I've  found  three 
clear  pines,  that  will  bring  fifteen  hundred  dollars  for 
masts,  and  lots  that  will  scale  five  thousand  ;  A  num- 
ber 1  boards  they'll  make,  too." 

"  Guess  you'll  make  a  good  winter's  work.  Got  a 
good  crew,  havn't  you  ?" 


122  NOW-A-DAYS. 

'•  Yes,  but  one  on  urn  is  sick^BKried  out  to  Simp- 
son's yesterday ;  p'raps  you  knew  it." 

"Xo,  I  didn't  stop  to  Simpson's;  I'll  call  there  to- 
morrow. What's  the  matter  with  him?" 

"Kheumatiz." 

"  That's  bad  ;  sorry  for  him,  sorry  for  him."  Then 
hastily  turning  from  the  table,  he  exclaimed,  "  Come, 
come,  boys,  don't  be  so  d — d  solemn.  This  aint  a 
Quaker  meetin,  is  it?  Come,  give  us  a  song."  And 
in  a  loud,  and  not,  unmusical  voice,  he  struck  up  a 
song,  in  which  all  present  joined. 

"  There,  now  !  that's  the  way.  What's  the  use  of 
being  so  devilish  stupid?  Live  while  ye  do  live — 
that's  my  doctrine." 

All  present  entered  into  his  humor ;  and  when  he 
proposed  that  somebody  should  spin  a  yarn,  there  was 
no  lack  of  speakers. 

At  length  he  began  to  relate  one  of  his  own  ad- 
ventures in  Kew  York,  "  before  he  got  his  eye-teeth 
cut,"  he  said. 

He  had  got  into  a  mock  auction,  it  appeared  ;  and 
he  described,  in  a  most  amusing  way,  his  own  verdant 
appearance,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  was  cheated. 
"  But  the  laugh  wasn't  all  on  one  side,"  he  concluded, 
"  for  when  I  saw  what  a  d — d  set  of  scoundrels  they 
was,  I  jist  pitched  into  um ;  and  the  way  I  beat  and 
mauled  um  wasn't  slow.  I  was  pretty  smart  then,  for 
my  dander  was  up,  and  they  were  cowards,  like  all 
rascals.  I  didn't  get  my  money  back,  but  I  got  the 
worth  of  it  on  them.  It  was  strength  against  brains 
then,  and  brains  got  the  worst  of  it  that  time.  I 


AN   EVENING    WITH   THE   LUMBERMEN.  123 

bought  experience^and  a  lot  of  galvanized  watches, 
pretty  dear ;  but,  considerin'  the  drubbin'  that  was 
thrown  in,  I  felt  pretty  well  satisfied  with  my  side  of 
the  trade." 

After  a  few  more  stories  had  been  told,  interspersed 
with  boisterous  songs,  he  declared  that  he  would  turn 
in  ;  and,  taking  a  blanket,  he  threw  himself  on  the 
hemlock  boughs  with  his  men,  and  was  soon  fast 


Early  in  the  morning  he  was  again  up,  and  ready 
for  a  start,  after  having  a  long  and  private  consulta- 
tion on  business  with  Clark,  in  whom  he  seemed  to 
place  much  confidence. 

"  There's  been  a  survare  here  to  scale  the  trees,  to 
get  the  stumpage,"  said  Clark. 

*  "Well,  I  suppose  he  saw  all  the  timber  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  saw  all  that  was  necessary,"  replied  Clark, 
with  a  knowing  wink ;  "  p'raps  he  might  hev  over- 
looked a,  few  spots  where  it's  yarded." 

Gordon  laughed.  "  Perhaps  his  eyes  were  a  little 
dazzled  by  something  in  the  money  line — hey,  Clark  ?" 

"  Wall,  now,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  was.  But, 
then,  they'll  get  all  the  stumpage  that  they  orter  hev. 
Them  land  owners  is  a  dreadful  greedy  set.  Good 
mornin',  Colonel,"  he  added,  as  Gordon  sprang  into 
his  sleigh. 

"  Good  morning."  And  away,  like  an  arrow,  flew 
the  spirited  horse,  as  if  he  well  knew  the  character 
of  his  owner. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  soliloquized  Clark,  looking  after 


124  NOW-A-DAYS. 

him,  "  the  colonel  is  a  smart  feller.  He  know's  what 
he's  about ;  and,  fur  all  he's  such  a  case  on  a  spree, 
and  'pears  to  care  so  little  about  making  plans,  that 
are  head  of  his'n  does  a  plaguey  sight  of  work,  and 
he  keeps  a  sharp  look  out  arter  the  main  chance." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MORE    ABOUT   THE   LUMBERMEN. 

"  How  are,  you  Simpson  ?"  exclaimed  Col.  Gordon, 
dashing  np  to  the  door  of  that  worthy's  house  in  his 
usual  whirlwind  fashion  and  springing  from  his 
sleigh.  "  All  well  here  ?" 

"  Pooty  well,  Colonel,  and  glad  to  see  you  lookin'  so 
rugged.  Walk  in  !  Walk  in  !" 

Mr.  Gordon  obeyed,  first  spreading  a  buffalo  over 
his  horse ;  he  was  greeted  by  Mrs.  Simpson  with 
every  appearance  of  cordial  welcome ;  chucking  El- 
vira under  the  chin  he  complimented  her  on  her  good 
looks,  to  which  she  replied,  "  oh,  stop  your  nonsense !" 
though  it  appeared  not  at  all  offensive  to  her. 

"  I  hear  you've  got  one  of  my  men  sick  here." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Simpson,  "he's  some  easier 
now ;  walk  into  t'other  room  and  see  him." 

Gordon  did  as  requested,  and  greeted  the  sick  man 
with  a  cheerful  "  How  are  ye,  old  boy  ?  Keep  up  a 
good  heart !  You'll  come  out  right  end  up !" 

'  The  invalid  smiled  as  he  pressed  the  hand  that  was 
extended  to  him,  for  there  was  something  in  the  voice 
of  the  speaker  that  cheered  him  at  once. 


126  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  It  makes  it  mighty  bad  for  me,  though,  Colonel, 
to  be  took  right  in  the  middle  of  the  winter  so." 

"  Have  you  any  family  ?" 

"  My  mother,"  replied  the  sick  man,  "  she's  a  wi- 
dow," and  tears  rushed  to  his  eyes. 

Gordon  saw  at  a  glance  what  was  passing  in  the 
poor  fellow's  mind,  that  he  was  her  only  support,  and 
that  his  wages  were  needed  to  maintain  her. 

"  Where  did  you  say  your  mother  lived  ?" 

"  In  Bradley." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know.  She's  a  nice  woman.  You  just 
get  somebody  to  send  her  this  in  a  letter,  as  a  kind  of 
a  Christmas  present  from  her  friend  Jim  Gordon, 
will  you  ?"  he  said,  putting  fifty  dollars  into  the  inva- 
lid's hand.  Then  before  he  could'  find  words  to  ex- 
press his  thanks,  away  went_  the  Colonel,  and  his 
merry  laugh  was  echoed  from  the  next  room. 

Just  then  Esther  came  down  from  her  chamber. 
She  was  aware  of  the  new  arrival,  for  Mr.  Gordon 
had  not  only  a  particular  faculty  of  making  a  noise 
himself,  but  "  of  stirrin'  every  body  all  up  in  a  heap," 
as  Mrs.  Simpson  expressed  it,  and  from  the  sounds  of 
welcome,  she  had  judged  that  some  pretty  important 
personage  had  arrived. 

"This  is  Miss  Hastings,  Col.  Gordon,"  said  Mrs. 
Simpson  as  Esther  entered  the  kitchen. 

Mr.  Gordon  looked  up,  made  a  very  polite  bow,  and 
addressed  her  in  a  very  gentlemanly  manner  on  that 
never  failing  topic  the  weather ;  she  replied  briefly, 
and  then  calling  Sammy,  told  him  it  was  time  to  get 
ready  for  school. 


MOKE  ABOUT  THE  -  LUMBERMEN.         127 

"  Allow  me  to  take  you  in  my  sleigh  to  your  school 
house,"  said  Col.  Gordon. 

"  Oil,  it  is  quite  unnecessary,"  was  Esther's  reply. 
"  It  is  not  far  from  here  ;  I  can  very  easily  walk.  I 
am  much  obliged,  but  won't  trouble  you." 

"  But  this  light  untrodden  snow  is  very  bad  to  walk 
in.  It's  no  trouble  at  all ;  just  get  ready,  and  I'll 
take  you  there." 

"  That'll  be  raal  nice,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson  as  Esther 
speedily  attired  herself  and  jumped  into  the  sleigh. 

Mr.  Gordon  managed  to  talk  a  great  deal  in  the 
few  moments  ride  that  ensued,  and  his  frank  but  yet 
gentlemanly  manners  pleased  Esther  much. 

She  thanked  him  as  they  parted  and  bade  him  good 
bye,  as  she  said  she  should  not  probably  see  him 
again. 

"  Why  ?  Do  you  expect  to  spend  two  or  three 
days  at  your  school  house  ?" 

"  Oh  no  ;  but  I  supposed  you  only  made  a  transient 
call  at  Mrs.  Simpson's." 

"  Well  you  needn't  be  in  a  hurry  to  say  good  bye 
— I  have  business  here  that  may  detain  me,"  he  said 
as  he  turned  away,  lifted  his  cap,  and  was  out  of  sight 
in  a  moment. 

"  That  man  reminds  me  of  a  March  wind,"  thought 
Esther,  "  as  bold  and  rough,  yet  stirring  and  invigora- 
ting." 

"  Where  did  you  pick  up  that  little  school  marm?" 
asked  Mr.  Gordon,  as  he  entered  Mrs.  Simpson's 
kitchen. 


128  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  Oh,  she  cum  from  Bangor,  and  a  nice  gal  she  is 
tew.  She's  pooty,  aint  she  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  she's  as  fresh  as  a  rose.  By  Jove,  she's  got 
handsome  hair  and  teeth — then  what  ejes  she's  got — 
and  the  way  she  steps  off  takes  me.  She's  smart  I 
know.  I'm  going  to  know  more  of  her,"  thought  he, 
as  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  walked  out  of  the  house. 

At  four  o'clock  again  the  frank,  pleasant  face  of 
Col.  Gordon  appeared  at  the  school  house. 

He  walked  in  very  composedly,  and  informed 
Esther  that  he  had  been  sent  by  Mrs.  Simpson  to 
bring  her  home,  as  that  good  lady  was  fearful  that 
she  might  take  cold. 

This  was  not  strictly  true,  though  Mi's.  Simpson 
had  in  fact  assented  to  his  suggestion  that  it  would  be 
a  good  idea  to  go  after  her. 

"  I  am  much  obliged,"  replied  Esther,  "  but  if  you 
would  take  a  load  of  these  little  ones,  who  are  not 
very  warmly  dressed,  to  their  homes,  it  would  cer- 
tainly oblige  me  far  more." 

Mr.  Gordon  laughed.  He  was  not  particularly 
fond  of  children,  and  the  idea  of  carrying  a  load  of 
them  struck  him  as  rather  comical. 

"  Well,  bundle  in,  young  ones,"  -  he  said,  "  and 
Miss  Hastings,  wait  here  till  1  come  back ;"  and  off 
he  started  with  children  all  around  him  and  boys 
hanging  on  to  the  runners,  shouting  merrily. 

He  was  back  again  in  an  incredibly  short  time,  and 
as  he  handed  Esther  into  the  sleigh,  he  said,  "  Now, 
didn't  I  obey  you  nicely  ?  I  think  I  deserve  a  re- 
ward, won't  you  give  me  one  ?" 


MORE    ABOUT   THE   LUMBERMEN.  129 

"  Oh  yes,  if  you  are  not  too  exacting.  I  will  write 
you  a  'good  boy'  on  a  slip  of  paper,  if  that  will  do, 
or  give  you  the  highest  prize,  a  certificate  of  merit 
with  a  flower  in  each  corner." 

"  No,  that  won't  do  ;  this  is  what  -I  want,  that  you 
will  go  to  ride  with  me  now.  I  want  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  you,  and  did  you  know  that  there  is  no 
way  in  the  world  so  good  for  that  purpose  as  riding 
with  a  person  ?" 

"  Oh  well,  I  shall  be  happy  to  oblige  you,  particu- 
larly as  sleigh-riding  is  a  favorite  amusement  of  mine ; 
the  only  trouble  is,  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  a  reward  to 
me  instead  of  to  you.  I  don't  agree  with  those  people 
who  say  they  would  as  soon  sit  with  their  feet  in  cold 
water,  and  jingle  bells  in  their  hands,  as  to  go  sleigh- 
riding." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  replied  her  companion ;  mentally 
adding,  "  when  one  has  so  pretty  a  lady  by  his  side," 
as  he  gazed  with  undisguised  admiration  on  Esther's 
face. 

She  did  not  notice  it,  for  she  was  thinking  of  some- 
thing else,  and  her  utter  unconsciousness  of  it  pleased 
Mr.  Gordon. 

"  What  are  you  getting  into  such  a  brown  study 
for?  "  he  asked.  "  You  look  as  serious  as  a  man  does 
when  his  notes  are  falling  due,  and  he's  got  no  money 
to  take  them  up  with." 

"  Do  I?  I  was  thinking  what  a  nice  opportunity  I 
have  now  of  asking  you  about-  the  whole  lumbering 
business.  I  want  so  much  to  ask  any  number  of  ques- 


130  WOW-A-DAYS. 

tions  about  it,  and  you  are  just  the  one  to  answer 
them." 

"  Do  you  think  of  investing  the  money  you  make 
this  winter,  in  that  business?" 

"  Nonsense  !  but  I  do  really  want  to  understand  it 
from  the  very  beginning,  down  to  the  end  at  the  saw- 
mill." 

"  Well,  that  would  be  a  long  story." 
"  Never  mind !  tell  me  what  you  do  first." 
"  Why,  get  some  good  timber-laud  looked  out,  and 
agree  to  give  the  owner  so  much  on  each  thousand 
feet  of  lumber  that  we  cut  off;  that's  called  stumpage. 
Then  engage  a  crew  of  men ;  some  of  them  go  up 
early  in  the  Fall,  to  make  preparations  for  the  Winter, 
build  a  camp,  &c.  You've  seen  a  camp,  haint  you?" 
"  Yes,  I  went  out  to  see  one  the  other  day." 
"  Well,  then,  you  know  all  about  that.  This  crew 
of  men  is  divided  into  different  sets,  to  do  different 
kinds  of  work.  There  are  the  swampers,  as  they  are 
called,  who  cut  down  small  trees,  in  fact  build  roads 
from  the  most  important  part  of  the  woods,  that  is, 
where  there  is  the  best  timber,  down  to  the  river  or 
lake  where  we  haul  the  trees  after  they  are  felled.  A 
good  swamper  is  very  much  like  a  civil  engineer.  He 
wouldn't  know  so  many  scientific  terms,  but  he  will 
swamp  out  a  road  quick,  and  see  very  soon  the  easiest 
and  best  course  to  take.  I  remember  hearing  an 
anecdote  of  our  army  during  the  Mexican  war,  who 
had  got  to  a  place  where  it  was  thick  woods,  and  they 
had  to  cross  a  river  besides.  I  forget  just  where  it 
was,  but  it  was  under  the  command  of  General  Scott. 


MORE   ABOUT   THE   LUMBERMEN.  131 

The  army  was  rather  short  of  provisions,  and  didn't 
feel  quite  so  comfortable  when  the  engineers  decided 
that  it  would  take  a!  least  two  weeks  to  make  a  road 
to  the  river,  because  it  had  to  be  cut  through  a  hill, 
and  to  build  a  bridge  across.  The  officers  held  a  con- 
sultation, and  talked  over  all  sorts  of  things  without 
getting  ahead  any,  till  at  last  a  Yankee  colonel,  who 
was  then  a  captain  of  a  volunteer  company,  got  up 
and  said  :  '  Give  me  two  hundred  men,  and  I'll  have 
all  ready  to  go  over  in  twenty-four  hours.'  The  offi- 
cers thought  it  was  Yankee  brag,  the  engineers  fairly 
laughed  in  his  face,  but  he  stuck  to  it.  You  know 
you  can't  laugh  a  Yankee  down  quite  so  easy.  Gen- 
eral Scott  rather  liked  the  idea  of  making  the  experi- 
ment, so  the  captain  got  the  men.  He  was  an  old 
lumberman,  and  knew  just  what  he  was  about,  and 
how  to  go  to  work.  He  just  swamped  round  the  hill 
instead  of  making  a  straight  cut  through  it,  and  threw 
a  log  bridge  over  the  river.  JSTone  of  his  work,  I  spose, 
was  very  handsome,  but  it  answered  the  purpose,  and 
in  twenty-four  hours,  sure  enough,  the  Yankee 
swamper  had  accomplished  what  the  engineers  wanted 
a  fortnight  for.  Smart  set  of  fellows  these  woodsmen 
are.  They  look  rough,  but  that's  no  matter.  Have 
you  seen  any  of  them  travelling  up  to  the  camps  ? " 

"Yes." 

<  Did  you  notice  the  packs  that  they  carry  ?  " 

r^lSTo,  not  particularly." 

"  "Well,  they  have  the  bottom  of  a  red  shirt  sewed 
up,  then  fill  it  up,  put  it  on  their  backs,  and  tie  the 
sleeves  around  their  waists.  liather  a  new  kind  of  a 


132  NOW-A-DAYS. 

valise,  but  a  first-rate  one.  You  see  it's  a  prominent 
trait  of  a  lumberman  to  make  the  most  and  best  out  of 
everything,  and  it's  astonishing  how  much  anybody 
can  do  with  a  little  if  they  only  go  on  that  principle. 
But  I'm  getting  off  the  track  a  little." 

"  You  were  telling  me  about  stumpage,"  said  Esther, 
"but  don't  any  of  the  head  lumbermen  own  the 
land?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  own  a  good  many  townships  myself." 

"  You  buy  it  of  the  State,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Does  it  cost  a  great  deal?jjj 

"Well,  we  manage  to  make  ourselves  ivhol-e,  gen- 
erally speaking.  I  can't  say  but  what  there  is  a  little 
log-rolling  about  it." 

"  Log-rolling !  what's  thatl^l 

"  Why,  a  good  many  of  us  club  together ; — one 
wants  one  township,  another  wants  another,  and  we 
play  into  each  other's  hands.  If  the  State  wants  an 
unreasonable  price,  we  make  it  up  somehow  ;  but  1 
aint  a-going  to  tell  you  all  the  secrets  of  the  trade. 
You  know  there  are  a  good  many  quirks  in  every 
business." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  put  into  plain  English,  you  some- 
times cheat  the  State." 

"  Oh !  that's  rather  a  hard  name  ;  perhaps  cheatin 
is  as  good  a  word  as  any,  but  log-rollin  is  the  fashion- 
able term,  and  sounds  much  better.  Oh,  no  ;  lumber- 
men don't  profess  to  be  saints,  but  then  they  aint  the 
worst  of  sinners.  We  try  to  make  the  most  money 
we  can,  just  like  aufe^ther  set  of  men.  We're  no 


;.»  any  othf 


MOKE   ABOUT   THE   LUMBERMEN.  133 

better  nor  worse  than  the  rest  of  the  world.  There's 
a  great  deal  of  log-rollin  in  all  sorts  of  business,  the 
world  over.  The  merchants  understand  it;  and  if 
practice  makes  perfect,  the  politicians  ought  to  be  the 
best  hands  at  it  that  ever  was." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in 
what  you  say,"  said  Esther,  "  but  I  never  could  see 
the  propriety  of  calling  a  lack  of  principle  at  one 
time  shrewdness  in  a  man,  and  when  the  same  thing 
is  carried  a  little  farther,  branding  it  as  dishonesty." 

"Oh,  there's  a  difference  between  cheating  and 
making -a  good  trad|tt| 

"\VelI,  how  about  the  swampers?  I  believe  we 
were  talking  about  them.  Do  they  make  roads,  ex- 
cept in  the  fall  ?^l 

"  Yes,  though  they  make  the  principal  ones  early ; 
but  if  there  is  a  good  tree  or  so,  to  fell,  they  swamp  a 
track  for  that,  so  as  to  get  the  logs  all  together.  It's 
astonishing  how  soon  a  lumberman  can  tell,  by  the 
looks  of  a  tree,  whether  it's  good  timber  or  not." 

"  Don't  they  ever  make  a  mistake  ?" 

"  Yery  seldom  ;  and  they  have  a  way  of  making 
some  trees  pass  for  rather  better  ones  than  they  really 
are.  You  have  heard  of  coneussy  timber  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  never  knew  what  it  was." 

"  "Well,  its  a  sort  of  a  disease  "that  rots  a  tree,  and 
shows  itself  in  little  knots,  toad-stool  like,  on  the  bark, 
men  have  a  way  of  cutting  off  the  bunch,  and 
driving  a  little  wedged-snUped  piece  of  wood  in  the 
place,  that  makes  it  look  for  all  the  world  as  if  a  limb 
had  been  lopped  off  there;  and  so  the  log  goes;  and, 


134  NOW-A-DAYS. 

like  a  good  many  things  in  this  world,  appears  all 
right  till  it's  put  to  trial.  Well,  besides  the  swampers 
there's  the  choppers.  They  fell  the  trees — two  to  a 
tree.  They  cut  in  with  their  axes,  and  chip  down,  as 
they  call  it :  that  is,  they  make  a  slanting  cut  above 
the  straight  one  that  reaches  down  to  the  first  cut,  and 
by-and-by  over  goes  the  tree  with  a  rush.  They 
stand  only  a  little  one  side,  for  they  can  tell  almost 
exactly  how  one  will  fall,  and  any  accident  is  very 
rare.  Then  they  cut  off  the  log  the  length  they  want, 
cut  off  a  few  of  the  lower  branches  perhaps,  and  leave 
the  top  behind.  Then  the  IO^ML  ready  to  be  hauled 
off.  The  teamster,  with  his  six  or  eight  ox-team, 
hitches  the  logs  to  his  bob-sled,  and  hauls  them  to  the 
river.  They  are  hauled  right  on  to  the  ice,  so  as  to 
be  all  ready  to  start  when  the  ice  goes  out.  The  life 
at  a  camp  is  a  pleasant  one  ;  they  live  well ;  they  don't 
have  any  great  luxuries,  but  good,  substantial  victuals. 
They  don't  eat  much  butter,  but  molasses,  pork,  beef, 
and  salt  fish,  they  have  in  abundance.  They  drink 
both  tea  and  coffee.  The  way  they  carry  up  potatoes 
is  a  little  queer.  You  see  they  would  freeze,  if  they 
wern't  prepared  beforehand.  So  they  have  fish  boiled 
and  potatoes  boiled  and  mixed  together,  so  that  it 
makes  hash  fish.  It  is  put  down  into  barrels,  and  if 

l 

it  freezes  it  does  no  harm.  They  heat  it  over  the  fire, 
and  it  is  all  right," 

"Well,  now,  tell  me  about  the  river-driving;  isn't 
that  hard  work  ?"  » 

"  Sometimes  it  is,  when  the  logs  get  into  a  jam  ; 
then  there's  a  good  deal  of  danger.  But  the  lumber- 


MORE   ABOUT   THK    LUMBERMEN.  135 

men  are  a  courageous  set  of  men,  and  never  draw 
back  from  anything.  It's  very  exciting  getting  off  a 
jam,  but  they  like  it." 

"  Isn't  there  great  loss  of  life  ?" 

"  There  is  some,  but  not  so  much  as  anybody  would 
think.  When  the  logs  run  down  well,  the  men  follow 
in  batteaux.  You've  seen  those  sharp  built,  flattish 
bottomed  boats,  haven't  you  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I've  sailed,  or  rather  been  poled  along  in 
the  Aroostook  river  in  one." 

"  Well,  the  men  will  run  over  falls  in  them,  in 
places  where  it  would  make  a  man's  hair  stand  on  end 
to  go,  if  he  wasn't  used  to  it.  If  they  hit  a  rock,  they 
must  get  swamped,  of  course,  but  they  can  generally 
steer  over  safely.  They  sleep  right  in  the  open  air  at 
night,  wrapped  in  aiWanket,  perhaps  under  their 
boats ;  though  sometimes  they  have  a  rough  camp  put 
Tip  at  a  narrow  place,  or  near  falls,  where  they  usually 
have  jams.  These  men  can  balance  themselves  almost 
like  a  rope-dancer.  I've  seen  them  stand  on  a  log, 
with  a  long  pick-pole,  a  pole  that  has  an  iron  in  the 
end  of  it,  and  steer  that  wet,  slippery  log  anywhere, 
no  matter  if  it  keeps  rolling,  as  they  often  do,  over 
and  over ;  the  man  keeps  stepping  too,  and  shoves  the 
log  just  where  he  wants  it  to  go.  They  can  throw 
these  poles,  too,  as  accurately,  and  witli  as  good  aim, 
as  a  Nantucket  whaleman  would  his  harpoon." 

Esther  listened  with  evident  interest.  "They  are 
a  fine  hardy-looking  set  of  men,"  she  said,  "  and  look 
as  if  they  might  do  almost  anything  that  required 
steadiness  of  nerve.  But  now,  one  thing  more.  It 


136  NOW-A-DAY8. 

puzzles  me  to  know  how  you  get  your  logs  separated 
from  other  people's,  for  they  all  float  down  the  river 
together." 

"  Oh,  we  have  our  own  mark  on  them  ;  and  when 
the  logs  get  to  the  boom — do  you  know  what  a  boom 
is?" 

"  Yes ;  piers  and  logs  placed  across  a  river,  to  keep 
the  logs  from  going  farther,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Exactly.  Well,  when  they  get  there,  they  are 
separated  and  rafted  out.  We  have  to  pay  the  own- 
ers of  the  boom  for  it,  what  is  called  booniage.  If  we 
don't  pay,  the  boom  owners  can  sell  the  logs." 

"  I  should  think  a  good  many  logs  would  get  lost." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  they  do.  There  are  a  great  many 
leaks  in  the  lumbering  business,  but  we  do  a  large 
one,  and  calculate  to  make  enough  to  pay.  It's  like 
navigation  ;  you  either  make  or  lose  a  good  deal.  It's 
a  business  that  I  like,  for  you  can  go  into  it  strong." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Esther,  "  that  the  logs  are  floated 
down  from  the  boom  to  the  saw-mills." 

"Yes,  they  are.  You've  been  into  saw-mills, 
haven't  you  ? " 

"  Quite  often,"  replied  Esther.  "  I  always  feel 
interested  to  look  into  the  mills,  to  see  those  great 
saws  move  so  steadily  through  the  logs.  It  always 
reminds  me  of  the  movement  of  a  steam-engine,  and 
conveys  the  same  idea  of  power." 

"Yes,  they  are  powerful,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  There's 
been  great  improvement  in  saw-mills,  of  late  years." 

"  Not  in  the  beauty  of  the  buildings,"  said  Esther, 
smiling. 

m 


MORE   ABOUT   THE   LUMBERMEN.  137 

"  No,  they  are  only  shells,  to  be  sure,  though  they're 
very  strong;  but  finishing  up  is  of  no  consequence. 
But  the  saws  cut  through  a  log  six  or  eight  times 
where  they  used  to  cut  only  once ;  so  that  it  makes 
eight  boards  in  the  time  it  used  to  take  to  make  one. 
There  are  thirty  of  those  great  saws  going  at  once, 
sometimes,  in  a  mill,  under  one  roof,  and  a  grand 
sight  it  is.  It  looks  the  best  at  night,  when  the  torches 
flame  out  and  shine  on  the  water,  and  the  men,  in  their 
red  shirts,  are  at  work  tending  the  saws,  getting  up 
logs,  and  piling  boards.  You  know  they  keep  the 
mills  going  all  the  time  that  the  water  is  high 
enough." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  wear  the  men  out,"  said 
Esther. 

"  Oh,  they  have  nro  gangs,  one  for  the  day-time, 
and  another  set  for  the  night-work.  Did  you  ever  see 
them  get  up  the  logs  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have.  They  are  hauled  up  those  inclined 
planes  that  lead  into  the  water,  I  believe." 

"Yes,  they're  fastened  to  iron  chains,  by  having  an 
iron  spike,  which  is  called  a  doy,  driven  into  one  end 
of  them  several  inches  ;  then  this  chain  is  fastened  by 
a  wheel  to  the  carriage,  as  the  frame  on  which  the 
logs  rest  as  they  pass  under  the  saw  is  called,  and  it  is 
hauled  up  by  the  saw,  which  at  the  same  time  goes  on 
making  boards.'' 

"  It's  very  interesting  to  watch  the  men  at  work," 
said  Esther.  "  I  always  like  to  see  them,  as  the  saw 
cuts  steadily  through,  and  the  log  slides  slowly  along, 
put  other  logs  in  the  place  of  the  last  ones,  and  edge 


138  NOW-A-DAYS. 

the  boards  and  slide  them  off.  Then  the  lath  machine, 
where  they  make  laths  of  the  slabs,  I  always  like  to 
watch.  They  don't  seem  to  waste  much  in  the  mills." 

"  No,  nothing  but  the  edgings  which  they  trim  off 
the  outside  of  the  boards,  and  those  drift  down  the 
river  and  make  fire- wood  for  poor  folks.  It  looks  well 
to  see  the  men  raft  boards,  don't  you  think  so?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Esther,  "  there's  no  part  of  the  opera- 
tions of  a  mill  that  is  uninteresting  to  me.  I  don't 
wonder  that  they  like  their  business.  There  is  some- 
thing exhilarating  to  me,  even,  in  the  roar  of  the  water, 
the  whizzing  of  the  saw,  and  the  crashing  of  the  logs. 
It  always  makes  my  blood  run  quicker  to  look  on." 

"  It  gets  to  be  more  of  an  old  story  to  the  work- 
men," said  Gordon,  "  but  still  they  like  it.  You  see 
some  of  the  same  men  work  all  winter  in  the  woods, 
logging,  drive  logs  in  the  spring,  and  if  they  get  the 
drive  down  early  enough,  work  in  the  saw-mills  in  the 
summer.  So  you  see  they  have  variety  enough. 

"  But  I  wish  you  could  see  a  saw-mill  at  night.  I 
have  seen  them  when  I've  been  riding  late,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river,  looking  as  if  they  were 
illuminated,  and  so  bright  and  cheerful  that  it  really 
seemed  like  seeing  an  old  friend  ;  they  look  as  pleasant 
as  a  light-house  to  a  sailor." 

"  I  have  seen  one  at  night,"  replied  Esther,  "  and  it 
left  quite  a  different  impression  on  my  mind  from  that 
of  which  you  speak.  It  was  when  I  was  quite  a  child, 
and  riding  with  my  father  at  night ;  as  he  left  no  op- 
portunity unimproved  to  show  me  all  that  pertained 


MORE   ABOUT   THE   LUMBERMEN.  139 

to  his  business,  that  of  lumbering,  he  took  me  into  a 
mill  which  we  were  passing. 

"  It  was  rather  dark  out  of  doors,  and  when  he  led 
me  over  the  bridge  that  leads  out  to  the  mill,  and  the 
red  glare  of  the  lights  streamed  full  in  my  face,  I 
shuddered,  and  clung  closer  to  his  hand. 

"  The  various  sounds  of  which  you  speak — the 
whizzing  saws,  the  crashing  logs,  and  the  roar  of  the 
water — struck  an  awe  over  me,  and  as  I  looked  on  the 
stalwart  frames  of  the  workmen,  in  their  picturesque 
garb,  working  in  the  lurid  light,  I  could  hardly 
realize  that  they  were  mortals ;  and  as  I  shrunk  closer 
to  my  father's  side,  the  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the  scene 
was  lost  in  its  grandeur  and  wildness.  I  had  been 
reading  fairy  tales,  and  it  seemed  to  me  almost  as  if 
I  had  a  glimpse  into  the  interior  of  the  earth,  where 
gnomes  that  I  had  read  of  were  piling  the  mammoth 
piles  which,  burning,  would  burst  out  in  the  flames 
of  myriad  volcanoes. 

"  It  always  left  a  vivid  picture  in  my  mind ;  but 
now,  smiling  at  my  childish  impressions,  I  remember 
only  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  and  when  I  began  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  heathen  gods,  I  felt  as 
if  I  had  already  had  a  glance  into  sturdy  old  Vulcan's 
workshop." 

The  Colonel  smiled.  "/  never  have  any  fanciful 
or  spiritual  thoughts  about  these  men,"  said  he  ;  "I 
look  on  them  as  practical  mortals,  and  as  fine  speci- 
mens of  mortality  too." 

"  The  lumbermen  are  a  good  deal  like  the  sailors  in 
character,  aren't  they  ? "  asked  Esther. 


140  NOW-A-DAY8. 

"  Yes,  some.  They  are  just  as  fearless  and  jovial, 
but  I  think  they  are  rather  more  intelligent.  They 
are  generous,  but  not  such  spendthrifts  as  sailors. 
They  like  a  spree,  but  don't  make  that,  their  whole 
business  when  they  get  out  of  the  woods.  They  have 
a  great  fancy  for  beauty,  and  as  they  don't  see  ladies 
for  so  long  a  time  when  they  are  in  the  camp,  they  all 
look  handsome  to  them  when  they  do  get  out,  and 
they  are  very  apt  to  compliment  them,  when  they  get 
into  the  city." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Esther,  laughing,  "  no  matter  how 
plain  a  woman  is,  she  stands  a  chance  of  getting  any 
passable  feature  complimented  in  the  streets  of  Bangor, 
in  June  or  July,  by  the  red-shirters,  when  the  city  is 
full  of  them.  They  often  follow  a  woman  for  a  con- 
siderable distance,  commenting  on  her  various  charms. 
We  know  it  is  only  meant  for  mischief,  and  don't 
mind  it  at  all.  I  like  the  looks  of  those  red  shirts ; 
they  look  so  comfortable,  but  yet  I  shouldn't  think 
they  would  be  warm  enough  for  these  cold  winters." 

"  Oh,  they  keep  putting  on  one  after  another  till 
they  have  on  five  or  six  at  a  time,  and  even  more. 
They  are  warm,  and  not  too  clumsy.  Their  dress  is 
for  convenience ;  now,  those  long  thick  boots,  that 
reach  up  to  the  knee,  are  capital  things. 

"  But  I  guess  you've  heard  enough  of  this,  now. 
Have  yon  made  up  your  mind  to  go  into  the  business  ? 
Because,  if  you  have,  and  would  like  a  partner,  why, 
I  wouldn't  object  to  taking  you  in,  myself." 

He  looked  at  her  in  a  quizzical  way  as  he  spoke. 

Esther  laughed.     "  Thank  you  !     I  dare  say  it  would 


MORE    ABOUT   TUB   LUMBERMEN.  141 

be  more  profitable  than  school-teaching,  but  I  doubt 
whether  I  should  -be  so  well  fitted  for  it." 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  would  make  an  ex- 
cellent partner  ;  one  that  would  just  suit  me." 

"  Whey  !  what  you  about ! "  he  suddenly  exclaimed, 
as  his  korse  plunged,  reared,  and  came  to  a  dead  halt, 
trembling  violently,  and  apparently  much  frightened 
at  something  which  he  saw. 

"  Go  lang !  "  shouted  his  master  in  a  stentorian 
voice  ;  but  the  animal  only  plunged  and  backed. 

A  sudden  change  came  over  the  Colonel's  frank 
face  :  he  seemed  to  forget  Esther  entirely,.&ut  whipped 
his  horse  unmercifully,  without  effect.  He  sprang 
from  the  sleigh. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  he  said,  glancing  at  Esther's 
pale  face,  as  he  hurried  up  to  his  horse,  dealt  him 
several  violent  blows  with  his  clenched  fist,  about  the 
head,  and  with  an  oath,  exclaimed,  "  Will  you  go 
lang  now  ? " 

Esther  supposed  that  he  would  lead  the  animal  past 
the  swaying,  withered  branch  of  the  fallen  tree,  which 
had  so  frightened  him  ;  but  no,  the  Colonel  had  no 
idea  of  making  a  compromise  with  his  horse.  He 
sprang  again  into  the  sleigh,  and  this  time  the  animal, 
with  a  bound,  leaped  past  the  terrible  object,  as  if  he 
well  knew  that  he  must  obey. 

"  Now  that's  what  I  like,"  said  the  Colonel,  as  he 
tucked  the  buffalo  robes,  which  had  got  displaced 
during  this  struggle,  again  round  Esther,  seeming  in 
no  hurry  to  withdraw  his  arm  from  the  back  of  the 
sleigh.  "  You  didn't  scream  like  so  many  silly  fools, 


142  NOW-A-DAYS. 

though  you  did  look  so  frightened.  It  was  nothing, 
only  when  I  want  a  horse  to  go  anywhere  he's  got  to 
do  it." 

"  I  don't  know  which  I  was  most  afraid  of,"  replied 
Esther,  "you  or  the  horse,  you  looked  so  terribly 
black  and  ugly." 

The  Colonel  laughed. 

"  I  know  it  don't  take  much  to  get  my  temper  up, 
but  then  it's  a  flash  and  soon  over." 

"  I  shall  begin  to  believe  that  a  ride  is  the  best 
way  to  form  an  acquaintance,"  said  Esther,  "  for  I 
begin  to  think  that  I've  known  you  a  long  while." 

"Certainly  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Now  that's  the 
best  way.  Where's  the  sense  in  being  on  your  best 
behavior  a  few  months  and  then  letting  the  cat  out 
of  the  bag — show  out  what  you  are  !  That's  my  no- 
tion. You  can  do  it  just  as  well  in  a  few  days  as  in 
a  year." 

"  Much  obliged  for  my  ride,"  said  Esther  as  they 
approached  Mrs.  Simpson's. 

The  Colonel  had  a  great  mind  to  claim  something 
more  than  thanks,  but  a  glance  at  Esther's  calm,  quiet 
face  seemed  to  satisfy  him  that  she  would  be  much 
offended  at  any  familiarities,  and  he.  handed  her  very 
politely  from  the  sleigh. 

He  seemed  to  be  in  high  spirits,  and  gave  to 
Elvira  the  kiss  that  he  had  meditated  bestowing  upon 
Esther,  at  which  that  young  lady  tossed  her  head,  and 
exclaimed,  "Wall,  I  never!"  She  looked  rather 
cross  for  a  moment,  but  speedily  recovered  her  equa- 
nimity. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

COLONEL   GORDON. 

THE  next  day  after  the  sleigh-ride,  Colonel  Gordon 
left  Umcolcus,  and  though  he  had  been  so  recent  an 
acquaintance,  Esther  really  felt  sorry,  for  she  liked 
him  notwithstanding  his  peculiarities. 

"  He's  a  smart  feller,"  said  Mr.  Simpson  when  the 
family  were  sitting  together  in  the  evening,  as  the 
conversation  turned  on  people,  which  is  apt  to  be  the 
case  when  there  is  either  a  lack  of  thoughts  in  the 
minds  of  the  persons  talking,  or  of  congeniality,  for  to 
discuss  the  characteristics  of  others  is  always  intei'- 
esting  to  high  or  low,  since  it  is  a  subject  on  which 
we  feel  perfectly  at  h.ome,  and  therefore  are  apt  to 
allow  ourselves  the  largest  liberty. 

"  He's  a  good  hearted  man  as  ever  was,"  continued 
Mr.  Simpson,  "  as  free  of  his  money  as  ef  it  was  dirt, 
but  he  won't  stand  cheatin'  nohow.  He's  alus  in  law- 
suits for  ever  and  etarnally." 

"  He's  great  on  fast  drivin,  and  as  sure  as  they  hev  a 
law  agin  it,  in  the  city,  he'll  be  sure  to  cut  on  like 
blazes  and  drive  through  the  streets  as  ef  the  old 
Harry  was  arter  him  ;  then  when  they  take  him  up, 
he  knows  law  enough  to  plead  his  own  case,  and  ef 


1M  NOW-A-DAYS. 

they  do  fine  him  he'll  twist  and  turn  all  sorts  of  ways 
and  they  can't  make  nothin'  out  on  him  nohow.  He 
don't  vally  the  money,  but  he  won't  be  made  to  do 
nothin'  'thout  he  takes  a  notion.  He  had  a  lawsuit 
onct  that  two  of  the  smartest  lawyers  in  the  state  ma- 
naged for  him.  Wall,  they  got  the  case,  but  they 
charged  him  an  exorbiant  price  for  their  services,  and 
he  wouldn't  be  gammoned,  so,  he  went  to  law  with 
urn.  He  plead  his  own  case  agin  um  and  beat  urn 
tew.  They  haint  nothin'  but  what  he  kin  turn  his 
hand  tew,  from  makin'  a  law -plea  to  drivin'  an  ox- 
team.  He  often  starts  off  a  load  of  supplies  himself 
from  the  city,  marchin'  through  the  streets  and  flour- 
ishin'  his  goad-stick,  and  he  can  make  any  kind  of  a 
critter  do  as  much  agin  as  any  other  man.  He  kinder 
likes  to  start  off  a  team  so,  and  go  a  piece  way  with 
um.  I  tell  ye  there  haint  many  folks  that  kin  git, 
round  him  in  any  thing.  I  don't  believe  there  is  any 
other  man  that  the  lumbermen  thinks  so  much  on, 
nuther." 

"  He  is  certainly  a  peculiar  person,"  said  Esther, 
"  and  one  that  I  should  think  it  would  be  difficult  to 
dislike." 

The  wooden  clock  between  the  windows  gave  a 
loud  whirr  and  struck  nine  in  a  very  energetic  man- 
ner. 

Mrs.  Simpson  proceeded  to  rouse  Sammy,  who, 
leaning  his  head  on  the  table,  which  was  hauled  close 
to  the  fire,  had  fallen  fast  asleep. 

Sol  hung  his  newspaper  on  the  nails,  where  quite  a 


COLONEL   GORDON.  145 

file  of  papers  were  placed,  and  taking  a  candle,  walked 
off  to  his  bed. 

Esther  rose  to  follow  his  example,  but  was  recalled 
by  the  motherly  Mrs.  Simpson,  who  enjoined  on  her 
to  "  heat  her  feet  hot,  afore  she  went  into  her  cold 
chamber." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  Colonel,  the  same  cheer- 
ful, noisy,  jovial  fellow,  made  his  appearance  at  the 
settlement.  He  greeted  Esther  as  if  he  had  known 
her  for  years,  and  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  feel 
that  she  had  been  acquainted  with  him  for  so  short  a 
time. 

Again  he  wished  her  to  go  to  ride  with  him,  and 
when  fairly  on  their  way  he  began : 

"  Now,  I've  got  something  to  say  to  you,  and  it's 
my  way  to  come  right  up  to  the  point  without  going 
all  round  the  stump.  You  know  me  well  enough  to 
tell  just  what  I  am,  and  I  know  as  much  about  you  as 
I  think  it  necessary.  I  know  one  thing  certain,  that  I 
never  saw  a  girl  that  I  liked  so  well  as  I  do  you,  and 
now  I  want  to  ask  you  if  you  like  me  well  enough  to 
be  my  wife.  I  shan't  say  any  thing  about  my  pro- 
perty, for  I  don't  think  you  care  any  thing  about 
that,  but  if  you  like  me  well  enough  to  take  me  for 
better  or  worse  I'll  make  you  a  good  husband,  so  help 
me  God." 

Esther  looked  at  him  with  no  little  surprise.  "  In- 
deed, Mr.  Gordon,"-  she  said,  "  I  never  thought  of  you 
in  such  a  light — I  do  like  you  very  much  as  a  friend, 
but  I  never  had  the  slightest  idea  that  you  wished  for 
any  thing  but  friendship  from  me." 


146  NOW-A-DAYS. 

He  interrupted  her,  "  "Well,  I  do  want  something 
else,  and  if  you  think  you  can  love  me,  just  say  so,  and 
I'll  try  to  make  you  so  happy  that  you  will  never  re- 
pent of  it,  but  if  you  can't,  why  just  say  that,  and  I 
must  abide  by  it." 

"  No,  Mr.  Gordon,  I  do  not  love  you  well  enough 
to  become  your  wife." 

"  Not  now,  perhaps,  but  do  you  think  you  never 
could  ]" 

"  I  think  not.  We  are  not  suited  to  each  other. 
My  tastes  and  inclinations  would  be  so  entirely  differ- 
ent from  yours  that  you  would  weary  of  me  I  fear. 
Besides,  you  know  so  little  of  my  real  character.'* 

"  Nonsense,  I'll  risk  that.  The  only  point  is 
whether  you  could  or  could  not  love  me." 

Esther  was  silent.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
"  There  is  so  much  that  is  good  and  noble  in  him, 
could  I  not  be  happy  with  him  ?''  she  asked  herself. 
But  no — love  was  wanting. 

"  I  would  not  wrong  you  so  much,  Mr.  Gordon,  as 
to  become  your  wife,  without  loving  you  as  you  de- 
serve to  be  loved,  with  all  the  fervor  of  a  woman's 
best  affection  ;  but  though  I  cannot  give  you  that, 
you  will  remain  my  friend,  will  you  not?  I  know 
your  generous  nature  well  enough  to  hope  it ;  and  if 
I  ever  need  a  friend  I  shall  never  hesitate  to  go  to 
James  Gordon,  sure  that  I  shall  ever  find  one  of  the 
truest  and  noblest  in  him." 

"  Thank  you,  Esther,"  said  the  Colonel,  in  a  choked 
voice. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  to  have  given  you  pain,"  continued 


COLONEL   GORDON.  147 

Esther,  obeying  the  impulse  of  her  heart ;  and  taking 
his  hand,  she  pressed  it  kindly. 

"  It  was  not  your  fault,"  he  replied,  "  if  I  did  love 
you,  neither  is  it  yours  if  you  do  not  love  me ;  and 
God  forbid  that  I  should  ever  take  a  woman's  hand 
without  her  heart.  You  are  a  good,  frank  girl,  and  I 
love  you  better  than  ever,"  he  said,  leaning  over  her, 
and  pressing  a  kiss  on  her  brow. 

A  flush  rose  to  her  cheek,  but  she  was  not  offended. 
"  You  will,  then,  be  my  friend  forever  ?"  she  said, 
softly. 

"  Forever !"  he  repeated,  turning  aside  to  conceal 
his  emotion. 

He  had  no  idea  how  very  much  he  was  attached  to 
her,  until  he  found  that  she  could  never  be  his ;  and 
never  did  there  a  sadder  heart  beat  in  the  bosom  of 
any  girl,  who  rejected  the  suit  of  a  man  she  did  not 
love,  than  in  Esther's.  She  strove  to  talk  cheerfully ; 
and  the  Colonel,  who  thought  it  unmanly  to  betray 
the  strength  of  his  feelings,  did  the  same.  But  it  was 
in  vain  ;  both  were  thinking  of  the  same  subject;  and 
though 'they  did  not  mention  it  again,  neither  could 
enter  with  much  spirit  into  any  other. 

The  Colonel  did  not  remain  long  at  Mrs.  Simpson's, 
on  their  return  from  the  sleigh-ride.  He  did,  indeed, 
stay  to  supper,  but  resisted  all  their  entreaties  to 
spend  the  night  there. 

"  He  must  be  on  his  way  to  St.  Johns,"  he  said,  "  as 
he  was  going  there  on  business  ;"  and  bidding  Esther 
and  the  family  a  cordial  good-bye,  he  drove  off  at 
headlong  speed. 


14:8  •     NOW-A-DAYS. 

The  moon  shone  palely  down  on  the  white  surface 
of  the  ground,  and  glimmered  through  the  branches 
of  the  evergreens  that  lined  the  road  at  intervals. 
No  sound  broke  the  silence,  except  the  jingling  of  the 
sleigh-bells,  the  crunching  sound  that  the  snow  emits 
when  trodden  on,  in  a  cold  night  and  the  occasional 
hi !  hi !  of  the  Colonel  to  his  horse,  as  for  a  moment  he 
relaxed  his  rapid  trot. 

The  Colonel,  on  this  occasion,  seemed  more  in  a 
hurry  than  ever.  In  truth,  he  was  trying  that  experi- 
ment, which  so  many  have  attempted  unsuccessfully 
before  him,  that  of  running  away  from  himself  and 
his  thoughts.  This  disappointment,  in  a  matter  on 
which  he  had  set  his  heart,  was  a  new  thing  to  him. 
It  was  almost  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he  had 
been  thwarted  in  carrying  out  an  intention;  and 
though  he  chid  himself  for  being  so  unmanly,  as  to 
let  it  engross  so  much  of  his  thoughts,  yet  it  would 
continually  recur,  notwithstanding  his  efforts  to  pre- 
vent it. 

He  attempted  to  think  of  his  business ;  but  in  the 
midst  of  cogitations  on  lumber,  a  picture  of  a  pleasant 
fireside,  and  the  bright  smile  of  a  wife,  whose  face 
and  figure  bore  a  marvellous  resemblance  to  the  little 
school  teacher,  would  rise  before  him,  and  put  to 
flight,  visions  of  rolling  logs  at  once. 

Let  men  sneer  as  contemptuously  as  they  will  at 
the  air-castles,  of  which  the  weaker  sex  are  generally 
conceded  to  be  the  architects ;  yet  who  is  there  among 
their  number,  who,  if  he  will  not  confess  it  to  others, 
can  deny  to  himself,  that  he  has  seen  some  such  vision 


COLONEL   GORDON.  149 

of  a  home,  similar  to  that  which  floated  before  Colonel 
Gordon,  where  sat  enshrined  some  maiden,  bearing 
the  form  of  some  real  or  ideal  personage,  whose  smile 
is  to  make  the  sunshine  of  that  home. 

Answer,  oh  most  hardened  woman-hater,  and  con- 
firmed infidel  in  love  matters ! 

Does  not  the  old  picture,  though  perhaps  for  the 
most  part  obscured  by  the  dust  and  dirt  of  worldli- 
ness,  still,  at  times,  lighted  up  by  a  stray  sunbeam, 
gleam  before  you  for  a  moment,  withdrawing  you, 
for  that  brief  instant,  from  this  "  work-a-day  world  ?" 

"The  devil  take  the  women!"  was  the  Colonel's 
unromantic  and  half  audible  conclusion  to  his  reverie 
at  last,  as  he  approached  a  small  inn,  where  he  deter- 
mined to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

There  were  no  lights  burning,  and  all  was  quiet 
within  ;  but  very  soon  the  loud  shouts  of  Col.  Gordon, 
and  his  violent  thumps  at  the  door,  brought  out  the 
hostler,  who  slept  upon  the  floor,  and  who,  half  asleep 
and  half  awake,  grumbled  considerably  about  "  being 
waked  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  when  honest 
folks  ought  to  be  in  bed." 

The  Colonel  was  in  no  very  amiable  humor,  and 
repaid  this  grumbling  by  some  home  truths,  as  to 
what  belonged  to  his  business,  interlarded  with  seve- 
ral oaths.  These  acted  as  a  sort  of  safety-valve ;  and 
after  this  escape  of  steam,  Mr.  Gordon  slipped  some 
silver  into  the  hostler's  hand,  charging  him  to  take 
good  care  of  his  horse.  He  himself  entered  the  bar- 
room, and  proceeded  to  rake  open  the  fire,  for  he  was 
nearly  chilled  through. 


150  NOW-A-DAYS. 

The  reprimand  or  the  silver  produced  quite  a  favor- 
able effect  on  the  temper  of  the  hostler,  for  he  soon 
re-appeared,  in  very  good  humor,  and  speedily  disco- 
vered a  bed  for  the  new  comer,  although  he  had  at 
first  declared,  that  the  house  was  running  over  with 
company,  and  that  it  was  useless  to  think  of  stopping 
there. 

The  next  morning  found  the  Colonel  in  his  usual 
good  spirits,  and  he  pushed  on  towards  St.  Johns. 
He  was  greeted,  on  his  arrival  at  the  hotel  there,  as 
if  he  were  no  stranger ;  and  he  marched  into  the  bar- 
room, and  swung  around,  in  a  manner  that  plainly 
indicated  that  he  felt  all  the  importance  of  the  honor 
of  being  a  Yankee,  and  the  immense  superiority  of 
that  favored  race  to  the  Blue-noses. 

After  taking  a  drink,  and  treating  all  round,  he 
went  out  at  once  to  make  his  business  arrangements ; 
and  no  sooner  was  supper  dispatched,  than,  together 
with  three  gentlemen,  who  had  agreed  to  meet  him 
there,  he  entered  into  a  private  room,  where  glowed 
a  good  coal  fire. 

Mr.  Sinclair  was  a  gentlemanly-looking  man,  of 
rather  slight  figure,  and  pale  countenance,  who  bore 
the  appearance  of  one  who  had  spent  the  greater  part 
of  his  life  in  a  counting-room.  He  presented  a  strik- 
ing contrast,  not  only  to  the  hale  and  vigorous  Colo- 
nel, but  also  to  one  of  his  friends  who  accompanied 
him,  Mr.  Billings,  who  had  all  the  portly  and  com- 
fortable look  of  a  beef-loving  and  porter-drinking 
Englishman. 

Mr.  McPherson,  the  third  gentleman,  was  of  a  sandy 


COLONKL   GORDON.  151 

complexion,  and,  being  also  the  possessor  of  any  quan- 
tity of  freckles,  and  also  high  cheek  bones,  he  could 
make  no  pretensions  to  beauty.  He  was  equally  defi- 
cient in  grace  of  manner ;  but  his  eyes,  which  were 
shrewd  and  piercing,  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  pos- 
sessed other  qualities,  which  are  much  more  requisite 
than  grace  or  beauty,  to  a  good  business  man. 

The  room  was  well  lighted,  but  neither  light  or 
glowing  fire  could  give  that  air  of  comfort  which, 
though  it  may  be  claimed  in  truth  for  inns,  in  some 
countries,  is  in  our  own,  and  in  the  Provinces  gene- 
rally, wanting.  True,  it  was  well  furnished,  and  what 
was  lacking,  it  would  have  been  perhaps  difficult  to 
point  out ;  yet  the  room  had  that  unpleasant  air  of 
being  generally  uninhabited,  and  gave  one  at  once  the 
disagreeable  consciousness  that  it  was  not  an  abiding 
place  ;  in  short,  that  it  was  far  from  being  a  home. 
On  a  table  were  placed  cigars,  well  filled  decanters 
and  wine-glasses  ;  and  after  patronizing  both,  the  gen- 
tlemen proceeded  to  business. 

It  seemed  to  be  merely  the  closing  up  of  contracts 
previously  agreed  upon;  the  drawing  up  of  notes 
which  were  to  be  discounted  by  Mr.  Sinclair,  as  he 
was  engaged  in  banking,  the  negotiation  of  bills  of 
exchange,  and  the  like. 

When  this  was  dispatched,  the  Colonel  proposed 
cards,  to  which  all  seemed  agreed;  a  fresh  supply  of 
liquors  was  ordered,  and  they  prepared  to  make  a 
night  of  it. 

At  first  all  were  in  the  best  possible  humor ;  each 
seemed  pleased  with  the  results  of  their  respective  bar- 


152  NOW-A-DAYB. 

gains,  and  the  bottle  was  circulated  freely.  Toasts  were 
drank,  stories  told,  which,  if  not  particularly  witty, 
were  greeted  with  jnst  as  loud  shouts  of  laughter  as  if 
they  had  been  the  most  side-splitting  that  were  ever  re- 
lated ;  and  songs  sung,  whose  principal  merit  did  not 
lie  in  their  delicacy  of  sentiment  or  expression,  still 
less  did  it  consist  in  the  execution  ;  for  though  they 
adhered,  in  general,  to  the  same  tune,  each  sang  "  ad 
libitum,"  putting  in  any  number  of  variations,  in  any 
place,  without  regard  to  each  other.  However,  as 
there  were  no  other  listeners,  and  each  performer 
seemed  well  satisfied,  criticism  is  altogether  unneces- 
sary. 

The  cards  next,  which  had  not  at  first  received  their 
due  share  of  attention,  came  in  for  their  part,  and  at 
first,  rather  small  stakes  were  placed  upon  the  table. 

Presently  Col.  Gordon  exclaimed  "D n  it!  none 

of  your  half-laughs  and  purser's  grins.  Down  with 
the  dust !  I'll  go  you  any  sum  you  want  to." 

The  stakes  were  accordingly  doubled,  and  doubled, 
again  and  again,  as  the  liquor,  which  all  partook  of 
freely,  began  to  produce  its  usual  effects. 

It  loosened  Mr.  Billings'  tongue,  made  McPherson 
a  little  silly,  though  good-humored,  and  stiffened  the 
joints  of  Mr.  Sinclair  till  he  became  almost  as  rigid 
as  if  an  iron  rod  had  been  run  through  him,  while  on 
Colonel  Gordon  it  produced  no  visible  effect. 

The  Colonel  seemed  to  be  in  high  favor  with  Dame 
Fortune,  for  he  won  again  and  again  ;  at  last  Mr. 
Billings  muttered,  as  Gordon  was  again  the  winner, 


COLONEL   GORDON.  153 

"  That's  a  d d  astonishin'  run  of  luck  !  D d 

queer,  I  must  say  !  I  don't  understand  it!" 

"  You  havn't  learned  the  Yankee  ways  yet !"  said 
Sinclair. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  I  cheated?"  exclaimed 
Gordon. 

"Now,  Colonel,  don't  get  that  devilish  Yankee 
temper  of  yours  up,  and  go  to  showin'  your  teeth !" 
said  Sinclair. 

"  Then  don't  give  me  none  of  your  d — d  blue-nose 
impudence,  or  I'll  show  you  something  besides  teeth  !" 
ejaculated  Gordon,  straightening  up  and  clenching 
his  fists. 

"  I  ain't  anxious  to  fight,"  said  Billings,  "  but  per- 
haps you  mightn't  come  out  the  winner  there." 

"  D n  you  !  just  come  on,  we'll  try  it !" 

"  Xow,  gen'l'm'n,"  began  McPherson,  who  began 
to  talk  a  little  thick,  "  don't  spoil  th'  ev'nin'  so  ;  just 
take  a  drink,  and  cool  off." 

"  I'll  give  you  the  Queen !"  said  Sinclair,  raising 
his  glass. 

"  D n  the  Queen  !"  exclaimed  Jim,  "  I'll  give 

you  the  Yankee  Nation! — the  smartest  nation  on 
God's  earth — I'll  back  nm  up  against  the  whole 
world!" 

"  Oh,  the  Yankees !"  said  Billings,  sneeringly,  "  yes ! 
I'll  pit  um  against  the  world,  if  the  game  is  brag,  and 
the  weapons  tongues,  but  Old  England,  forever ! — the 
little  Island,  on  whose  possessions  the  sun  never  sets." 

"  Gen'lm'n  !  gen'lm'n  !  order!  order!"  exclaimed 
McPherson,  "  we  didn't  come  he-ah  to  fight ! — Come ! 


154  NOW-A-DAYS. 

come  ! — I'll  tell  a  story  !"  and  he  began  in  a  very  dis- 
jointed way  to  tell  an  anecdote,  which  Gordon  speed- 
ily interrupted. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Mac  !  The  less  you  say  now, 
the  less  you'll  appear  like  a  fool !" 

"Well,  I  don'no,  Col'n'l,  but  what  you're  'bout 
right,"  replied  McPhersonj  good  humoredly ;  and, 
acting  on  the  Honaoepathic  principle,  that  hair  of  the 
same  dog  will  cure  the  wound,  he  took  another  glass 
of  brandy. 

"  Here's  to  the  English  flag,  always  victorious !" 
said  Billings,  filling  a  glass. 

"  Do  drink  to  that,  Col'n'l,"  said  McPherson,  be- 
seechingly. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  so  much  agin  my  conscience," 
replied  Gordon,  "  when  I  know  the  Yankees  can  lick 
you  all  to  pieces,  and  not  half  try.  The  English  are 
a  d d  grasping  race ;  ye  can't  be  contented  with- 
out grabbing  arter  our  lands.  Now  how  like  the 
devil  you  acted  about  that  North-eastern  Boundary  !" 

"  We  wanted  our  rights,"  said  Sinclair,  "  and  what's 
more,  we  got  um." 

"  Oh,  d n  it !  if  you're  satisfied,  we  are — you 

know  as  well  as  I  do,  that  'twant  settled  accordin'  to 
any  sort  of  a  line,  and  it  was  lucky  for  you  that  it 
was  hushed  up,  or  we  should  have  licked  you  like 
thunder." 

"  You !  with  your  raw-boned,  slab-sided  militia ! 
What  could  you  do  against  her  majesty's  troops  ?" 
asked  Sinclair,  sneeringly. 

"  Well,  we've  answered  that  question,  before  to- 


COLONEL    GORDON.  155 

day.  Only  look  back  as  fur  as  the  revolution,  and  if 
you're  anyways  reasonable,  you'll  be  satisfied.  We 
did  lick  you  like  blazes,  then,  and  in  1812  ;  and  if 
we  did  it  then,  we  could  do  it  so  now  that  we  needn't 

leave  a  grease  spot  of  you.  D n  me,  if  I  havn't 

a  great  rnind  to  give  you  a  specimen  of  what  one 
live  Yankee  can  do,  if  he  sets  out !"  cried  Jim,  start- 
ing from  his  seat. 

McPherson  pushed  him  in  again ;  but  he  would 
not  stay  in  his  chair. 

His  coat  was  off  in  a  moment — "  Come  on,  both  of 
ye ! — all  of  ye ! — I'll  show  ye  that  Jim  Gordon  is 
more  than  a  match  for  twenty  Blue-noses  !" 

The  pacific  McPherson  again  interposed,  and  finally 
a  truce  was  proclaimed,  arid  the  compact  sealed  by 
copious  libations. 

Jim  would  not  be  stopped  from  proceeding,  how- 
ever, in  a  wholesale  eulogium  on  the  Yankee  nation, 
whose  good  qualities  and  smartness,  in  every  depart- 
ment, he  insisted  on  again  and  again,  if  not  in  an 
eloquent,  at  least  in  a  most  earnest  and  enthusiastic 
manner,  throwing  in  at  intervals  a  sly  taunt  at  the 
British. 

Sinclair  and  Billings  listened  with  no  little  impa- 
tience, but  both  by  this  time  were  too  far  advanced 
in  that  condition — which  is  so  pithily  dascribed  as 
"  tight,"  "  half  seas  over,"  and  a  thousand  similar  cir- 
cumlocutions, which  are  used  to  avoid  that  disagreable 
word  drunk — that  they  contented  themselves  with 
muttered  oaths,  and  renewed  applications  to  the 


156  NOW-A-DAYS. 

decanters,  whose  contents  seemed  to  soothe  their 
wounded  national  honor. 

McPherson  talked  on  at  random,  till  at  last,  even 
his  tongue  refused  to  do  its  office,  and  what  was  more 
marvelous  still,  he  could  drink  no  more?  he  was  fairly 
"  over  the  bay  ;"  in  fact,  dead  drunk. 

Gordon  still  plied  the  bottle,  and  ere  long,  both 
Billings  and  Sinclair  were  reduced  to  the  same  con- 
dition. 

The  Colonel  was  not  much  the  worse  for  his  deep 
potations,  apparently,  though  he  had  not  been  more 
abstemious  than  the  rest.  It  was  one  of  his  peculi- 
arities, to  be  able  to  carry  oif  any  quantity  of  liquor, 
and  he  sought  his  chamber,  leaving  his  friends  to  be 
taken  care  of,  as  they  were,  by  the  landlord. 

And  this  was  pleasure ! — This  progression  from 
boisterous  mirth  to  maudlin  silliness,  thence  to  the 
point  where  the  man  degenerates  into  the  mere  quar- 
relsome brute,  till,  having  lost  long  since  all  trace  of 
that  nobility  which  stamps  him  as  indeed  created  in 
God's  image,  he  sinks  at  last  into  utter  insensibility. 

This  is  the  tempting  cup,  that  has  lured  so  many 
of  the  noblest  and  most  generous  of  men,  step  by  step 
downward,  till  they  forget  wife,  children,  friends, 
their  own  souls  even,  in  dissipation  ! 

Yet,  so  it  has  ever  been,  from  the  days  of  the  great 
men  in  olden  times,  down  to  the  present,  that  those 
most  highly  endowed  with  gifts  of  mind  and  heart, 
have  been  too  often  the  slaves  of  sensuality. 

No  upbraidings  of  conscience  visited  the  pillow  of 
Colonel  Gordon,  as  he  flung  himself  on  his  couch,  and 


COLONEL   GORDON.  157 

was  soon  wrapped  in  the  lethargic  slumber  that  re- 
sults from  such  orgies;  but  in  the  morning,  the 
thought  of  what  had  passed,  flashed  through  his  mind ; 
it  did  not  indeed  give  him  the  acute  pang  that  his 
first  revel  had  cost  him,  but  as  the  remembrance  of 
Esther  crossed  his  mind,  he  blushed,  though  he  would 
not  have  owned  it  to  himself.  He  knew  that  she 
respected  him,  and  sadly  would  he  have  dreaded  to 
lose  the  place  which  he  held  in  her  esteem. 

"  Why  should  I  care  for  her  opinion  ?"  he  asked 
himself.  Why,  indeed  !  yet  care  he  did,  for  what 
man  is  there,  who  retains  any  spark  of  manhood,  who 
does  not  value  the  good  opinion  of  a  pure  and  high- 
minded  woman? 

He  half  resolved  that  he  would  never  make  such  a 
fool  of  himself  again,  but  his  resolutions  were,  like 
too  many  similar  ones,  made  as  a  sort  of  quietus  to 
conscience,  with  no  fixed  determinatiou  of  acting  on 
them. 

He  walked  out,  with  hardly  any  settled  purpose, 
but  entered  a  jeweler's  establishment  and  purchased 
a  beautiful  set  of  pearls,  which  he  forwarded  to 
Esther,  and  this,  with  a  few  words  that  accompanied 
the  gift,  was  all  that  she  heard  directly  from  her  old 
admirer.  She  often  heard  through  others,  mention 
of  him,  as  driving  on,  in  his  own  peculiar  fashion,  as 
deeply  immersed  in  the  tide  of  business  as  ever. 

Days  and  weeks  passed  rapidly  away,  and  her  school 
term  had  expired. 

The  last  day  of  school  was  greeted  with  mingled  joy 
and  sorrow,  by  both  Esther  and  her  pupils. 


158  NOW-A-DAYS. 

She  could  hardly  have  believed  that  in  so  short  a 
time  she  should  have  become  so  strongly  attached  to 
her  scholars,  as  she  found  to  be  the  case  on  parting 
with  them,  and  many  and  sad  were  her  farewell  visits 
to  her  rough  but  sincere  friends. 

"  I  do  hate  orfully  to  hev  you  go,"  said  Elvira ;  and 
her  tears  flowed  fast. 

She  listened  patiently  to  Esther  as  she  gave  her,  her 
own  little  Bible,  and  promised  that  she  would  try  and 
follow  its  guidance. 

Mrs.  Simpson  folded  her  in  her  motherly  arms,  and 
wept  over  her,  as  if  she  had  been  her  own  child. 

"  Wall,  the  house  does  seem  orful  lonesome,"  she 
said,  as  she  turned  from  the  window,  after  the  wagon 
which  bore  Esther  away,  had  disappeared.  "I  wouldn't 
hev  believed  that  I  should  hev  sot  so  much  by  her." 

"She  haint  a  bit  proud,"  said  Elvira,  "and  she 
never  orders  nobody  round,  but  somehow  or  uuther, 
she  alus  made  me  do  jist  what  she  set  out  to.  It  does 
seem  as  ef  the  whole  house  hed  gone,  for  all  she  hed 
sich  mighty  quiet  ways  with  her,  and  never  made  no 
sort  uv  fuss  about  nothin." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  FAMILY  PICTURE. 

IT  was  a  pleasant  summer  evening.  The  lamps 
ware  not  yet  lighted,  and  the  doors  and  windows  were 
opened  to  catch  the  cool  breeze,  which  rustled  lightly 
among  the  shrubbery  and  the  leaves  of  the  trees 
which  surrounded  Mr.  Wilton's  residence. 

Margaret  and  her  mother  sat  alone  in  the  parlor,  a 
large  room,  whose  furniture,  consisting  entirely  of  the 
straight-backed  chairs,  and  curiously  carved  tables  of 
the  times  of  the  Pilgrims,  gave  it  a  quaint  though  not 
unpleasing  aspect. 

"  Come,  mother,"  said  Margaret,  breaking  the  long 
silence  which  twilight  is  so  apt  to  cause,  "  let  us  walk 
out  awhile  in  the  garden  ;  the  air  will  do  you  good." 

Mrs.  Wilton  arose,  and  after  submitting  to  be  care- 
fully wrapped  in  a  shawl  by  her  daughter,  walked 
slowly  out  into  the  grounds  which  surrounded  the 
house. 

"  How  quiet  every  thing  seems,"  said  Margaret,  as 
they  paced  slowly  up  and  down  the  winding  paths. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  lovely  evening,"  replied  her  mother, 
"  and  your  presence  makes  it  doubly  pleasant  to  me. 
What  should  I  do  wMiout  you,  Madge  ?  "  she  contin- 


160  NOW-A-DAYS. 

ued,  pressing  her  child's  arm,  by  which  she  was  fondly 
encircled. 

u  I  hope  that  question  will  long  remain  unanswered, 
dearest  mother,"  said  Margaret,  "  for  we  will  not  part 
soon,  if  I  can  help  it.  But  you  seem  tired,  shall  we 
not  sit  down  and  rest  ?  Father  will  be  here  presently. 
Let  us  wait  for  him." 

They  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  a  gentleman  soon 
approached  them.  His  head  was  silvered,  but  his 
form  was  unbent ;  and  greeting  them  affectionately, 
he  gave  Margaret  a  letter  ;  then  saying  that  "  it  was 
rather  late  for  invalids  to  be  out,"  led  the  way  to  the 
house. 

"  What  has  detained  you  so  long  ?"  asked  his  wife, 
as  they  entered  the  parlor,  and  ordered  lights. 

"  Business,  as  usual,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  how 
delightful  it  is  to  come  home,  after  the  cares  of  the 
day  are  over.  I  think,"  he  added,  "  that  no  class  of 
men  can  appreciate  the  delights  of  home  so  fully  as 
the  business  man.  Jostled  as  he  is,  all  day  long,  by 
eager  pursuers  of  wealth,  and  seeing  nothing  but  sel- 
fishness, it  is  so  refreshing  to  escape  from  the  tumult 
a  while,  into  his  quiet  home,  and  to  hear  something 
talked  of,  beside  the  '  almighty  dollar.'  " 

Margaret,  who  had  retired  to  read  her  letter,  now 
came  in.  "  She  is  coming,"  she  said  ;  "  how  glad  I 
am!" 

"  Esther,  I  suppose  is  the  person  of  whom  you 
speak,"  said  her  mother,  smiling  at  Margaret's  eager- 
ness. "  So,  then,  we  are  to  see  that  paragon." 


A    FAMILY    PICTURE.  161 

"  How  soon  may  we  expect  her  ?"  asked  Mr.  Wil- 
ton. 

"  In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two,"  replied  his  daugh- 
ter. 

"  Now  for  some  music,  Maggie,"  said  her  father, 
after  the  conversation  which  ensued,  upon  Esther's 
good  qualities,  had  ended ;  and  seating  himself  near  a 
window,  while  Margaret  proceeded  to  the  piano,  he 
prepared  to  listen. 

It  was  indeed  a  delight  to  hear  Mrs.  Hastings  sing. 
Passionately  fond  of  music,  she  threw  her  earnest  soul 
entirely  into  her  songs,  so  that  the  listener,  absorbed 
in  the  melody,  forgot  the  performer  in  her  music. 

She  ceased  singing,  and  commenced  playing  one  of 
Mendelssohn's  exquisite  songs  without  words,  saying, 
as  she  finished,  "  How  near  such  music  brings  one  to 
the  artist's  soul !" 

"  It  does,  indeed,  with  such  an  interpreter  as  you 
are,  my  dear,"  replied  her  mother,  with  a  fond  smile ; 
and  as  Margaret  stood  by  her  side,  lifting  her  mother's 
grey  hair,  caressingly  from  her  brow,  she  added, 
"  how  delightful  it  is  to  have  you  at  home  once  more." 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  replied  her  father ;  "  we  form  once 
again  the  perfect  chord,  which  Mrs.  Childs  speaks  of." 

The  silence  was  unbroken  for  a  few  moments,  save 
by  a  suppressed  cough  from  Mrs.  Wilton. 

It  fell  on  Margaret's  ear  like  a  death-knell,  warning 
her  that  the  harmony  of  that  triple  chord  might,  ere 
long,  be  broken  by  the  stern  death-message. 

"  Father,"  said  she  suddenly,  "  what  do  you  think  of 
our  trip  to  Clarendon  Springs  ?  I  think  it  would  be 


162  NOW-A-DAYS. 

of  great  benefit  to  mother,  for  they  are  quite  different 
from  Saratoga,  quiet  and  retired,  and  the  waters  cer- 
tainly have  effected  some  wonderful  cures." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Maggie,"  replied  Mr.  "Wilton, 
"  that  the  journey  will  do  you  both  good.  I  should 
like,  of  all  things,  to  spend  a  few  weeks  there  myself, 
among  the  green  hills  of  Vermont." 

"  And  why  won't  you?''  asked  his  wife. 

"  I  can  only  ring  the  changes  on  my  old  excuse, 
business,"  replied  her  husband  ;  "  but  I  will  go  with 
you,  and  see  you  nicely  settled  in  good  rooms  at  the 
Clarendon  House,  and  perhaps  spend  a  few  days 
there." 

"  Ah !"  replied  Margaret,  smiling,  "  I  don't  place 
any  dependence  upon  your  stay  there,  even  of  a  few- 
days.  I  know  you  too  well.  You  cannot  rest  long 
enough.  I  really  believe,  mother,"  she  added,  "  that 
father  would  be  miserable,  if  he  were  not  surrounded 
by  the  hum  of  that  business,  of  which  he  complains 
at  times  so  bitterly." 

"  I  don't  know  but  you  are  half  right,"  replied  her 
father ;  "  but  when  shall  we  start  for  Clarendon  ?" 

"  As  soon  as  Esther  comes,''  said  Margaret ;  "  I 
think  she  will  enjoy  the  trip  equally  as  much  as  any 
of  us." 

"  I  should  think  even  more,"  answered  her  mother, 
"  for  she  must  be  heartily  sick  of  her  experiment  of 
teaching  in  the  backwoods." 

u  I  shall  be  glad  enough  to  get  her  back  into  civil- 
ized life,"  said  Margaret,  as  she  bade  her  parents  good 
night,  and  retired  to  her  chamber. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CLAKENDON   SPRINGS. 

"  THIS  is  a  lovely  morning,"  said  a  young  lady,  who 
was  slowly  walking  up  and  down  the  lowest  of  the 
three  piazzas,  which  surrounded  the  Clarendon  House, 
a  large  four-storied  brick  building. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  Miss  Sidney,"  rejoined  her  compan- 
ion, a  gentleman,  whose  sallow  complexion,  and  some- 
thing in  his  accent,  proclaimed  from  the  South.  "  The 
air  is  delightful ;  so  fresh  and  cool.  But  have  you 
yet  quaffed  any  of  the  water  from  the  spring  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Miss  Sidney. 
'  Shall  we  not  go  down,  then  ?"  he  asked. 

"  If  you  will  wait  a  moment,"  answered  Miss  Sid- 
ney, "  till  I  get  a  veil.  You  know  we  ladies  must 
take  care  of  our  complexions,"  she  said,  smiling,  as 
she  re-appeared,  with  a  green  veil,  wound  quite  taste- 
fully and  becomingly  around  her  head. 

"  I  supposed  Miss  Sidney  quite  above  the  ordinary 
weakness  of  her  sex,  as  regards  beauty." 

"  No,  Mr.  Everett,"  replied  his  companion,  as  they 
slowly  descended  the  hill,  in  the  shade  of  a  few  trees ; 
"  I  do  not  profess  any  superiority  over  ordinary  mor- 


164  NOW-A-DAYS. 

tals,  and  cannot  imagine  what  grounds  yon  had  to 
form  your  supposition  upon.  Nor  do  I  admit  your 
premises,  that  it  is  a  weakness  to  prize  the  beauty 
which  we  possess,  especially  when  so  little  happens  to 
fall  to  the  share  of  an  individual,  as  in  my  case.  I 
did  not  say  that  to  draw  out  a  compliment,"  she  added, 
smilingly,  as  she  saw  her  companion  about  to  speak ; 
"  I  know  very  well  that  my  complexion  is  about  my 
only  hope,  to  rescue  me  from  the  class  of  homely 
young  ladies,  and  shall  take  good  care  of  it." 

"  Here  we  are,  at  the  spring;  and  if  you  will  not 
allow  me  to  express  my  opinion,  without  charging  me 
with  flattery,  Miss  Sidney,  allow  me  to  refute  your 
words  by  your  own  eyes,"  he  said,  drawing  her  to 
the  railing  of  a  bridge,  which  crossed  a  small  stream. 

"  I  find  only  '  assurance  made  doubly  sure,'  "  re- 
plied Miss  Sidney,  "  and  prefer  that  you  should  offer 
me  a  glass  of  water." 

Quite  a  large  company,  some  of  whom  ill  health, 
and  some  of  whom  pleasure,  had  drawn  to  Clarendon 
now  surrounded  the  springs,  which  were  three  in 
number. 

From  one,  called  the  "  love-sick  spring,"  Mr.  Eve- 
rett brought  a  glass  of  water,  which  Miss  Sidney  de- 
clined, saying  that  at  present  she  did  not  need  it. 

Another  flowed  from  a  little  mound  ;  from  this  they 
drank,  and  ascended  the  hillock  to  visit  the  third. 

This  was  famed  for  the  cure  of  dyspepsia,  and  little 
bubbles  were  continually  welling  up. 

"  People  say  these  bubbles  contain  a  deal  of  virtue ; 
you  had  better  catch  one  or  two,"  said  Miss  Sidney. 


CLARENDOX    SPRINGS.  165 

Stooping  down,  Mr.  Everett  dexterously  caught  one 
in  his  glass,  and,  with  a  low  bow,  offered  it  to  his 
companion. 

"  There's  the  breakfast-bell,"  he  said,  as  she  returned 
the  tumbler ;  "  shall  we  return  ?" 

Slowly  they  ascended  the  hill,  upon  whose  summit 
stood  the  hotel,  greeting  with  morning  salutations 
several  of  their  acquaintances,  who  were  going  some- 
what later  to  the  spring,  for  their  morning  draught. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Carroll,"  said  Mr.  Everett, 
as  they  reentered  the  house.  "  Your  fair  niece  and  I 
have  been  beforehand  with  you,  for  we  have  already 
taken  a  glass  of  the  pure  fountain  of  life  !" 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Mrs.  Carroll,  a 
large  and  showily-dressed  lady;  "for  I  sent  Mary  to 
the  spring  long  ago,  to  bring  up  a  pitcher  of  water  for 
me,  before  you  or  Emily  had  finished  your  morning 
dreams,  I  imagine.  But  shall  we  not  join  the  gene- 
ral tide,  which  flows  towards  the  breakfast-room  ?" 
she  continued. 

Her  companions  assented,  and  they  passed  through 
a  long  and  rather  dark  passage-way,  to  the  low  hall 
which  Mrs.  Carroll  had  designated. 

Scarcely  had  they  taken  their  seats,  when  a  party 
of  four  entered;   a  middle-aged  gentleman  and  his 
wife,  with  two  young  ladies ;  "  both  rather  attractive,"  ' 
Mr.  Everett  remarked,  "and  one   decidedly   hand- 
some." 

"  I  wonder  who  they  are,"  said  Mrs.  Carroll.  * 

Emily   Sidney   looked   for    a    moment,   then    ex- 


166  XOW-A-DAYS. 

claimed,  "  It  is,  I  am  sure  it  is,  Esther  Hastings  ; 
though  I  don't  know  who  is  with  her." 

"Let  me  ask  Mrs.  Merrill,"  said  Mrs.  Carroll. 
"  She  will  know  all  about  them,  I'll  wager  a  pair  of 
gloves  ;  for  she  knows  everybody  in  the  United  States, 
apparently,  and  all  about  their  relatives,  even  to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation.'' 

"I  shall  not  accept  your  wager,"  answered  Mr. 
Everett.  "  f or  I  should  be  inclined  to  take  the  same 
side  of  the  question  that  you  bet  upon.  But  who  is 
Miss  Hastings  ?"  he  asked,  of  Emily. 

"  A  very  dear  school  friend  of  mine." 

"  Ah,  I  perceive !"  replied  Mr.  Everett,  rather  scorn- 
fully ;  "  the  old  story  of  Damon  and  Pythias,  in  a  fe- 
male form." 

"  Laugh  as  you  choose,  about  school  friendships," 
returned  Emily,  "  they  are  sometimes  lasting ;  at  least 
the  influence  of  one  will  always  remain  with  me.  But 
I  can  bring  better  authority  than  my  own  ;  your  favor- 
ite, Longfellow,  speaks  almost  reverently  of  the  friend- 
ship existing  between  Cecilia  Vaughn  and  Alice 
Archer ;  and  you  cannot  be  heretical  enough  to  de- 
spise his  opinion." 

"  However  great  an  admirer  of  Longfellow  I  may 
be,  Miss  Sidney,  I  am  not  bound  to  receive  every 
word  he  utters,  and  every  sentiment  he  advances,  as 
oracles.  I  never  claimed  infallibility  for  my  favorite. 
I  must  beg  an  introduction  to  your  friend ;  and  as 
her  parly  has  just  returned  to  the  parlor,  let  us  move 
in  the  same  direction." 

The  greeting  between  the  two  friends  was  warm, 


CLARENDON    SPRINGS.  167 

and  both  hastened  to  make  each  other  acquainted 
with  their  companions.  After  a  few  moments  con- 
versation, Mr.  Everett  proposed  a  walk  to  the  spring. 
Mr.  Wilton  had  excused  himself,  as  he  was  obliged 
to  write  some  letters,  he  said ;  but  Margaret's  arm 
afforded  the  support  she  needed,  to  her  mother.  Mr. 
Everett,  whose  assistance  Mrs.  Wilton  had  declined, 
walked  slowly  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Carroll,  while  Es- 
ther and  Emily  followed  leisurely,  talking  together  in 
a  low  tone. 

"  So  that  beautiful  woman  is  your  step-mother  ?" 
said  Emily,  gazing  at  Mrs.  Hastings,  admiringly ; 
"  and  is  she  as  lovely  in  character  as  in  person  ?" 

"  She  is  a  woman  of  a  great  deal  of  character,  in  my 
opinion,"  replied  Esther,  "  and  I  love  her  very  much; 
as  to  her  peculiar  traits,  I  leave  you  to  discover  them ; 
you  have  a  fine  opportunity  here.  At  present,  1  pre- 
fer to  hear  what  you  have  to  say  about  yourself.  It 
has  been  so  long  since  I  have  seen  or  heard  anything 
from  you,  that  I  presume  you  have  wonderful  things 
to  relate.  How  strange  that  we  should  have  met 
here  !"  she  continued :  "  but  it  was  not  ill  health  that 
brought  you  here,  Emily?"  as  she  gazed  on  her 
friend's  blooming  countenance. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed !"  replied  Emily  ;  "  I  came  with 
aunt  Carroll,  of  whom  you  have  often  heard  me  speak. 
She  has  no  children,  and  I  have  always  been  her  favor- 
ite niece.  She  has  begged  mother  to  give  me  to  her 
as  her  daughter,  but  mother  could  not,  of  course : 
however,  I  stay  with  her  a  great  part  of  my  time. 
But,  Ettie  dear,"  continued  Emily,  in  a  lower  tone, 


168  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  I  have  a  great  many  things  to  say  to  you  ;  what  do 
you  say  to  taking  a  long  walk  with  me  this  afternoon  ?" 

"That  it  would  be  delightful,"  replied  Esther,  "  and 
would  seem  like  the  days  of  '  lang  syne.' " 

While  the  girls  were  thus  talking,  Mrs.  Carroll  and 
Mr.  Everett  were  quite  eagerly  discussing,  whether 
Miss  Hastings  would  be  called  a  beauty. 

"  In  my  opinion,  no,"  said  Mi's.  Carroll ;  "  she  has 
too  little  color"  (glancing  at  Emily's  fresh  complexion) ; 
"  and  though  her  features  are  regular,  they  lack  ex- 
pression." 

"  How  can  you  think  so  ?"  replied  Mr.  Everett.  "  I 
was  just  about  remarking,  that  her  chief  charm  con- 
sisted in  her  varying  expression.  But  we  are  walking 
too  fast  for  Mrs.  Wilton,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  back, 
and  saw  Margaret  and  her  mother  quite  a  distance 
behind  them. 

"  Will  you  not  now  accept  of  my  support  ?"  he  said, 
approaching  Mi's.  Wilton. 

"  I  will  avail  myself  of  a  lady's  privilege,  that  of 
changing  my  mind,"  she  replied  ;  "  and  though  I  re- 
fused just  now,  I  will  accept  your  kind  assistance." 

"  Second  thoughts  are  always  best,"  returned  Mr. 
Everett. 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Hastings. 

"  In  instances  like  the  present,  certainly,"  the  re- 
plied ;  "  when,  as  in  this  case,  a  lady  accepts  an 
attention,  which  she  has  once  refused." 

Mrs.  Carroll,  who  had  been  waiting  for  Mrs.  Wil- 
ton to  come  near,  hearing  only  the  last  part  of  this 
sentence,  now  asked  if  they  were  discussing  the  pro- 


CLARENDON    SPRINGS.  169 

priety  of  a  lady's  acceptance  of  an  offer  which  she 
had  once  rejected. 

"  Not  exactly,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilton,  "  but  some- 
thing a  little  similar.  Pray,  what  is  your  opinion, 
Mrs.  Carroll  ?" 

"  It  would  be  my  advice  to  a  lady  in  such  a  case," 
was  the  reply,  "  to  adhere  to  her  first  decision.  No 
gentleman  ever  forgets  or  forgives  a  rejection." 

"  You  are  rather  hard  upon  our  sex,"  said  Mr. 
Everett.  "But  what  do  you  say,  Mrs.  Hastings  ?" 

"  I  think,"  said  Margaret,  coloring  deeply,  "  that  it 
is  a  matter  depending  entirely  on  circumstances. 
Still,  in  only  one  case,  do  I  think  it  justifiable.  If  the 
lady's  first  decision  was  occasioned  by  some  objection 
which  was  afterwards  removed,  I  should  think  it 
right  to  accept  the  lover,  but  if  want  of  affection  for 
him  had  been  her  reason,  nothing  could  be  an  excuse 
for  her  acceptance  of  him  unless  it  was  a  change  in 
her  feelings." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilton,  "but  she 
should  be  careful  not  to  mistake  a  lack  of  fancy  for  a 
want  of  affection.  For  my  own  part  I  don't  believe 
in  what  are  generally  termed  love  matches." 

"  Neither  do  I,  Mrs.  Wilton,"  said  Mrs.  Carroll,  "  I 
have  often  observed  that  such  marriages  frequently 
prove  most  unhappy." 

"  But  you  do  not  believe  in  a  marriage  without 
love,  ladies,"  interposed  Mr.  Everett.  "  At  least  you 
do  not,  Mrs.  Hastings  ?" 

"  I  believe  there  have  been  such  things,"  said  Mar- 
garet, smiling,  "  but  this  is  a  subject  upon  which  I 
8 


170  NOW-A-DAYS. 

have  not  prepared  myself  for  discussion,  and  there- 
fore cannot  discourse  upon  it,  in  a  sufficiently  eloquent 
manner  to  satisfy  myself,  so  you  must  excuse  my  en- 
larging upon  it.  There  are  the  girls  waiting  for  us 
rather  impatiently  ;  let  us  join  them." 

After  each  had  taken  a  glass  of  the  pure  water, 
Mr.  Everett  proposed  some  exercise  in  the  bowling 
alley.  It  was  already  occupied  by  parties  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  and  as  Mrs.  Wilton  found  that  the 
rolling  of  the  balls  gave  her  a  headache,  Margaret 
returned  with  her  mother  to  the  house.  They  were 
soon  followed  by  the  rest  of  their  party,  and  as  Mr. 
Everett  offered  to  read  aloud  to  Emily  and  Esther  in 
the  parlor,  they  took  their  work  and  seated  themselves 
to  listen  to  him.  Mrs.  Carroll,  not  very  fond  of  read- 
ing, betook  herself  to  another  part  of  the  room,  and 
was  soon  deeply  interested  in  an  animated  discussion 
on  that  never-failing  topic,  dress,  which  was  carried 
on  by  a  group  of  ladies. 

Esther  and  Emily  were  very  much  interested  in 
Mr.  Everett's  reading  of  the  Ancient  Mariner.  At 
its  close  he  abruptly  asked  them,  "  if  they  had  never 
met  persons  to  whom  they  had  felt  impelled,  like  the 
Ancient  Mariner,  to  tell  their  thoughts." 

"  I  think,"  replied  Emily,  "  that  I  have  encountered 
people  who  must  have  felt  thus  towards  me,  for  I 
have  often  been  detained  by  some  long  tale,  quite  as 
unwillingly  as  was  the  poor  Wedding  Guest." 

"  But  seriously,  Miss  Hastings,  have  you  never  felt 
this  truth,  which  Coleridge  thus  brings  out?" 

"  I  think  I  have,"  she  replied,  "  both  from  experi- 


CLARENDON     SPRINGS.  171 

ence  and  observation.  Still,  I  agree  with  Emily  that 
I  have  more  frequently  met  with  persons  who  seemed 
impelled  to  unbosom  to  me,  than  those  to  whom  I  felt 
a  desire  to  reveal  '  my  innermost,'  as  Miss  Bremer 
would  say." 

"How  are  you  going  to  spend  the  afternoon?" 
asked  Mr.  Everett,  after  a  pause. 

"  We  are  going  to  walk  together,"  replied  Emily. 
"  I  intend  to  show  Esther  some  of  my  favorite  haunts. 
I  suppose  you,  Mr.  Everett,  will  take  your  usual 


.  "  I  think  I  shall,  Miss  Sidney,  though  I  might  be 
tempted  to  ask  permission  to  accompany  you  in  your 
walk,  if  I  did  not  have  a  presentiment  that  you  would 
prefer,  in  your  first  expedition,  an  opportunity  to  talk 
unrestrained  by  a  third  person." 

"  You  are  very  considerate,"  remarked  Esther.  "  I 
think  you  must  have  sisters,  who  have  let  you  into  the 
secrets  of  school  friends." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Everett,  sighing,  "  I  have  never 
enjoyed  the  blessing  of  a  sister's  society,  nor  am  I  so 
fortunate  as  to  possess  young  lady  cousins,  that  excel- 
lent substitute  for  the  lack  of  sisters."  Then  glancing 
at  his  watch,  and  remarking  that  he  had  no  idea  of 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  he  sauntered  slowly  away. 


CHAPTEK  XVI. 

A  CHAT   IN   SCHOOL   GIRL   FASHION. 

MR.  EVERETT  was  sitting,  or  rather  reclining  at  full 
length  upon  a  bench  on  the  piazza,  smoking  a  cigar, 
when  the  two  friends,  ready  dressed  for  their  walk, 
appeared. 

"You  look  the  very  picture  of  enjoyment,"  said 
Esther,  as  they  passed  him. 

"  Ah,  that  remark  only  demonstrates  anew  the  truth 
of  the  old  proverb,  '  appearances  are  oftentimes  de- 
ceitful,' Miss  Hastings.  If  you  could  only  realize  the 
dissatisfaction  and  unrest  that  lie  concealed  under 
this  apparently  calm  exterior,  you  would  come  to 
quite  a  different  conclusion." 

"  My  imagination  is  not  sufficiently  vivid,"  replied 
Emily,  "  to  admit  of  such  a  supposition,  and  I  shall 
not  waste  my  sympathy  upon  one  so  little  needing 
it." 

"  Very  well,"  returned  Mr.  Everett,  "  you  have 
only  furnished  me  with  a  new  subject  for  bitter  medi- 
tations. Adieu,  and  a  pleasant  walk  to  you." 

"  We  wish  you  delightful  dreams  in  return,"  said 
Esther,  and  they  descended  the  hill. 


A  CHAT  IN   SCHOOL-GIRL   FASHION.  173 

"  It  is  rather  warm,  Emily,"  she  said.  "  I  hope  it 
is  not  far  to  your  old  rock." 

"  Not  very,"  replied  Emily,  "  we  have  to  cross  that 
field  there,  where  you  see  that  grove ;  this  little 
stream  flows  by  the  side  of  it.  It  is  charmingly  cool, 
when  you  get  there." 

"It  is,  indeed,  a  very  beautiful  spot,"  exclaimed 
Esther,  as  they  paused  under  the  shade  of  some  fine 
old  elm  trees,  "I  should  like  to  spend  a  long  time 
here." 

"  The  water  sounds  so  pleasantly  as  it  prattles  along, 
that  it  always  makes  me  feel  cheerful,"  said  Emily. 

As  they  seated  themselves  upon  the  soft  grass, 
Esther  asked,  "  What  is  it,  Emily,  that  you  have  to 
tell  me  ?  I  am  really  quite  anxious  to  hear  your 
revelation." 

"  Your  curiosity  shall  be  satisfied  almost  imme- 
diately, Ettie,  for  do  you  know  that  you  possess  the 
gift  of  the  wedding  guest,  that  we  were  reading  of, 
this  morning?  At  the  risk  of  boring-  you,  I  am  going 
to  play  the  part  of  the  ancient  mariner." 

"  Very  well,"  returned  Esther,  "  you  know  that  I 
was  always  a  good  listener ;  so  I  will  take  an  easy 
position,  and  prepare  for  your  story." 

"First  let  me  ask  you,  Esther,  if  you  have  ever 
been  in  love  ?" 

"  No,  Emily,  I  am  yet  '  in  maiden  meditation, 
fancy  free,'  but  your  question  gives  me  a  clue  to  your 
revelation,  I  think.  Have  you  then,  my  dear,  found 
the  other  half  of  your  soul  ?" 

"  I  do  not  feel  sure  that  I  have  found  my  lost  half, 


174:  NOW-A-DAY8. 

from  which  the  ancients  would  have  it,  that  I  was 
severed,  hut  I  am  engaged.  Mr.  Templeton  is  my 
lover's  name,  but  it  seems  absurd  to  call  him  a  lover 
— and  you  will  say  so,  when  you  see  him. — He  isn't 
the  least  like  my  beau  ideal,  but  then  people  never 
find  their  day-dreams,  in  that  respect,  realized.  Mr. 
Templeton  is  a  business  man,  and  his  method  of  woo- 
ing is  like  any  other  business  transaction,  with  him ;  he 
is  ten  or  fifteen  years  older  than  I  am,  and  not  at  all 
handsome  ;  but  that  doesn't  matter  so  much,  for  I  don't 
care  to  have  a  handsome  husband,  and  have  people 
wondering  '  how  he  came  to  have  such  a  plain  wife.' '' 

"How long  is  it  since  you  became  engaged?"  asked 
Esther. 

"  Six  or  eight  months  since,"  replied  Emily ;  "  I 
never  was  more  surprised  in  my  life,  I  assure  you, 
Ettie,  than  I  was,  when  father  called  me  into  the 
parlor  one  day,  and  told  me  that  Mr.  Templeton 
wished  me  to  become  his  wife — I  have  always  known 
him,  but  the  idea  of  him  as  a  lover,  never  entered 
my  mind — I  hardly  knew  what  to  say :  but  father, 
mother,  aunt  Carroll,  and  all  of  my  friends,  seemed 
to  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  in  process  of 
time,  I  should  become  Mrs.  Templeton.  I  didn't  care 
much  about  him  at  first,  and  it  used  to  trouble  me  a 
good  deal,  to  think  I  didn't  love  him  as  I  ought,  but 
now,  I  feel  no  sort  of  uneasiness  about  that,  for  I 
never  could  have  believed  that  a  few  months  would 
have  made  such  a  change  in  my  feelings  towards  him. 
I  love  him  plenty  well  enough,  Esther,  and  now  the 


A   CHAT   IN   SCHOOL-GIRL   FASHION.  175 

only  thing  that  troubles  me  is,  whether  he  has  as 
much  regard  for  me,  as  I  have  for  him." 

"  If  he  did  not  love  you,  Emily,  why  has  he  chosen 
you  ?  I  should  think  that  was  proof  enough  of  his 
affection." 

"  I  often  think  of  that,"  replied  her  friend,  "  still 
it  does  not  satisfy  me ;  sometimes  I  really  fear  that 
he  does  not  care  at  all  for  me." 

"  You  remind  me  of  the  old  Spanish  proverb,"  said 
Esther,  "  that '  there  is  no  true  love  without  jealousy.'  " 

"  No,  I  am  not  jealous — there  is  no  person  of  whom 
I  could  be — but  still  there  is  something  wanting — 
something  that  I  cannot  explain.  It  is  not  lack  of 
attention,  for  he  is  polite  and  kind,  always.  I  long 
to  have  you  see  him,  Esther,  to  see  if  your  sharp  eyes 
cannot  discover  what  is  the  trouble." 

"The  trouble,  I  presume,  Emily,  exists  only  in  your 
imagination.  You  are  determined  to  make  a  hero 
out  of  a  plain  business  man,  and  when  he  is  thinking 
of  a  rise  in  flour,  or  railroad  stocks,  you  imagine  that 
he  is  brooding  over  some  fault  in  you." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  Emily,  laughing,  "  but  still  I 
am  not  quite  satisfied.  Mr.  Templeton  is  really  a 
noble  man,  and  one  that  I  shall  always  respect.  I  am 
even  willing  to  promise  to  obey  him — only  think  of 
that  concession, — for  I  know  that  I  should  do  it  with- 
out promising." 

"  I  do  really  feel  quite  a  desire  to  see  the  man  who 
could  make  such  a  change  in  a  friend  of  mine,  whom 
I  have  often  heard  declare,  that  she  would  never  give 


1 76  NOW-A-DAYS. 

op  her  will  for  any  man,"  replied  Esther.  "  When 
shall  I  see  this  wonderful  magician  ?" 

"  He  will  be  here  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks," 
returned  Emily,  "  to  take  us  home ;  but  you  must 
promise  to  make  me  a  long  visit  this  fall,  and  then 
you  will  have  a  fine  opportunity  to  know  all  about 
him,  only  don't  fall  in  love  with  him !" 

"  Never  fear  that,"  rejoined  Esther,  laughingly,  "  I 
will  try  and  get  a  talisman  to  protect  me  from  his 
charms." 

"  Here  is  one  of  his  letters,"  said  Emily,  putting 
her  hand  into  her  pocket,  "  you  see  I  have  been  too 
recently  a  school- girl,  to  give  up  the  habit  of  carrying 
a  pocket  full  of  treasures,"  she  continued,  as  she 
pulled  out  the  contents  into  her  lap ;  "  here  it  is — a 
little  crumpled,  to  be  sure — read  it,  Esther,  dear." 

Esther  glanced  at  the  handwriting,  regular,  bold 
and  rapid — "  a  good  business  hand,"  she  said,  and 
after  reading  it,  remarked,  "  it  is  rather  brief,  but 
that  seems  characteristic  of  the  man — he  goes  straight 
to  the  point ;  says  what  he  has  to  say  concisely,  and 
stops  when  he  has  got  through." 

"Doesn't  it  strike  you  as  rather  cool?''  asked 
Emily. 

"  No,  not  particularly  so ;  it  seems  to  me  a  very 
sensible  love  letter,"  replied  her  friend,  "  and  sense  is 
an  element  not  usually  ascribed  to  letters  of  that 
class." 

"  Common  sense  is  the  principal  trait  in  Mr.  Tem- 
pleton's  character,"  remarked  Emily. 

"  An  excellent  one,  that,"  replied  Esther,  "  I  always 


A    CHAT    IN    SCHOOL- GIRL    FASHION.  177 

like  practical  people,  to  live  with ;  sentimental  ones 
do  nicely  for  variety,  but  every-day/eort  of  persons 
are  much  more  agreeable  to  spend  a  lifetime  with." 

Emily  now  began  to  ask  Esthe^of  her  occupati<?ns, 
since  they  had  parted  at  Mr.  Marshall's  school,  and 
was  quite  amused  at  her  friend's  description  of  life 
in  the  backwoods. 

The  conversation  next  turned  upon  their  old  school- 
days and  school-friends. 

"Have  you  heard  from  Maria  Brooks  recently?" 
asked  Esther. 

"  Yes,  not  long  since — poor  Maria,  how  she  used  to 
dislike  Mathematics.  She  used  to  say  she  had  wept 
a  sea  of  tears  over  that  study." 

"  And  Virginia,  what  of  her  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  must  tell  you, — Maria  wrote  of  her, 
that  she  was  called  a  belle,  very  bewitching  and  fas- 
cinating." 

"  /  never  thought  Jennie  handsome,"  remarked 
Esther. 

"  Handsome ! — no  indeed,  she  certainly  was  not ; 
but  you  know  she  never  at  school  paid  much  attention 
to  her  personal  appearance — at  any  rate,  she  is  called 
handsome  now." 

"  Virginia  was  always  rather  a  puzzle  to  me,"  said 
Esther,  musingly. 

"  She  never  puzzled  me  any,"  replied  Emily ;  "  I 
never  saw  anything  mysterious  in  her  :  she  was  rather 
reserved,  to  be  sure,  and  had  no  intimate  friends. 
But  what  did  you  discover  so  strange  about  her  ?" 

"I  can  hardly  tell  myself;  I  never  studied  her 
8* 


178  NOW-A-DAYS. 

much,"  said  Esther ;  "yet  I  had  always  an  impres- 
sion, when  with  her,  even  when  she  seemed  most  open 
and  communicative,  that  she  took  care  not  to  reveal 
her  real  thoughts." 

"  Poh,  Esther !  you  are  the  enigma.  Your  eyes 
always  look  as  if  you  saw  deep  into  every,  one.  How 
is  it  ?  do  you  possess  the  gift  of  second  sight  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  claim  that  power ;  but  I  do  see  that 
the  shadows  here  are  lengthened,  and  think  it  time 
that  we  were  at  the  Clarendon  House." 

They  quickly  started,  and,  on  reaching  the  hotel, 
found  Mrs.  Carroll,  Mrs.  Hastings,  and  Mr.  Everett 
upon  the  piazza.  Margaret  addressed  them  as  runa- 
ways, declaring  that  she  and  Mrs.  Carroll  were  about 
sending  Mr.  Everett  upon  a  voyage  of  discovery,  in 
pursuit  of  them. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Everett,  "  I  really  began  to  fear 
that  I  should  be  under  the  painful  necessity  of  indit- 
ing a  newspaper  paragraph,  dilating  upon  the  myste- 
rious disappearance  of  two  beautiful  damsels,  and  re- 
questing the  same  to  be  returned  to  their  anxious 
friends,  if  met  by  any  one." 

"  This  burst  of  eloquence  was  to  have  been  headed 
'  strayed  or  stolen,'  I  presume,"  said  Emily.  "  It  is  a 
pity,"  she  continued,  "that  we  had  not  stayed  a  little 
longer ;  it  seems  too  bad  that  the  world  should  be  de- 
prived of  such  a  glowing  paragraph." 

"  Since  Mr.  Everett  bears  the  loss  of  fame  so  phi- 
losophically," said  Mrs.  Hastings,  "  don't,  I  beg  of 
you,  bring  up  any  bright  visions  of  glory  before  him, 


A   CHAT   IN    SCHOOL-GIRL   FASHION.  179 

lest  they  should  prove  too  much  even  for  his  equa- 
nimity." 

"  Many  thanks,  Mrs.  Hastings,  for  your  considera- 
tion," said  Mr.  Everett,  bowing  gracefully. 

"  Who  is  that  gentleman,  leaning  against  a  pillar, 
yonder  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Hastings.  "  He  seems  to  be 
looking  at  us,  as  if  he  despised  us :  at  least,  I  read 
contempt  in  his  smile,  and  in  the  glance  of  his  dark 
eye." 

"  I  think  you  read  him  aright,  fair  lady,"  replied 
Mr.  Everett.  "  Mr.  Mclntyre  is  his  name.  He  is  a 
gentleman  of  fortune,  and  rather  handsome.  Here 
ends  my  knowledge  of  him,  for  he  seems  to  wish  no 
acquaintance  with  any  one.  He  has  declined  an  in- 
troduction to  several  ladies,  which  I  happened  to 
overhear  an  old  friend  of  his,  propose  to  him." 

"  I  have  noticed  him  several  times  before,"  said 
Mrs.  Hastings,  "since  we  have  been  talking,  and 
always  wearing  that  same  contemptuous  expression,  as 
if  he  thought  we  were  butterflies  of  fashion." 

"  Yes,  we  call  him  Diogenes,"  said  Emily. 

"  Diogenes — that  was  the  name  of  Mr.  Toot's  dog, 
wasn't  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Carroll.  "Why  should  you 
call  that  gentleman  by  such  a  name  ?  I  am  sure  there 
is  nothing  of  the  puppy  about  him." 

The  company  smiled ;  and  Emily  exclaimed, 
"  Pshaw !  aunt  Carroll,  you  know  very  well  what  I 
meant ;  and  you  must  forgive  a  school-girl,  so  recently 
emancipated  as  I,  for  allusions  to  her  classical  diction- 
ary." 

"  Why,    Emily  Sidney,"  suddenly   exclaimed  her 


180  NOW-A-DAYS. 

aunt,  "  I  really  believe  your  feet  are  wet.  Did  you 
go  to  walk  with  those  slippers  on  ?" 

"I  think  I  must  have  done  so,"  replied  Emily, 
"since  I  have  not  the  fairy  gift  of  being  in  two  places 
at  once,  and  therefore  could  not  have  changed  them." 

"  What  fairy  was  that,  of  whom  you  speak,  pos- 
sessed of  such  a  marvellous  gift  ?"  said  her  aunt.  "  I 
don't  remember  her  name ;  but  then  it's  a  long  time 
since  I  read  Cinderella,  and  other  tales." 

Emily  looked  half  vexed,  but  answered,  "  I  must 
refer  you  to  a  perusal  of  those  volumes,  for  the  inves- 
tigation of  the  subject.  I  don't  think  it's  a  good  idea 
for  people,  who  have  plenty  of  time,  to  depend  on 
others  for  their  information." 

"  "Well,  Em,  go  and  change  your  slippers  ;  and  you 
too,  Miss  Hastings,  if  your  feet  are  wet." 

Esther  replied  that  her  feet  were  perfectly  dry,  as 
she  had  worn  rubbers. 

£The  supper-bell  now  rang,  and  Mr.  Wilton  advanced 
from  the  parlor,  where  he  had  been  sitting,  reading  a 
newspaper,  and  saying  that  his  wife  was  asleep  when 
he  last  saw  her,  asked  if  Margaret  thought  it  best,  to 
waken  her.  But  Esther  had  already  gone  in  search  of 
her,  and,  with  Mrs.  Wilton,  now  met  Margaret  in 
the  hall.  Mrs.  Wilton  looked  pale  and  wearied,  and, 
to  Margaret's  anxious  inquiries,  replied,  that  it  was 
merely  the  fatigue  attendant  upon  the  journey,  and 
that  she  should  feel  better  in  a  few  days. 

After  tea,  most  of  the  people  in  the  house  adjourned 
to  the  parlor,  where  music,  dancing,  and  conversation, 
by  turns,  entertained  them.  Margaret  noticed  that 


A   CHAT   IN    SCHOOL-GIRL   FASHION.  181 

Mr.  Mclntyre  stood  occasionally  in  the  door,  and 
looked  upon  the  gay  company  with  the  same .  indiffer- 
ent smile.  She  thought  his  eyes  rested  upon  her,  and 
not  with  the  admiring  gaze,  which  she  was  accustomed 
to  see  everywhere  bent  upon  her. 

"He  thinks  me  a  vain  trifler,"  she  said  to  herself; 
"  and  why  should  he  not  ?  but,  after  all,  what  is  his 
opinion  to  me  ?" 

Many  were  now  dancing  the  polka,  and  she  could 
not  avoid  looking  at  him,  to  read  what  he  thought  of  it. 

"I  should  hate  to  have  those  dark  eyes  bent  upon 
me,  with  such  a  contemptuous  expression,"  said  Es- 
ther, who  had  approached  her  step-mother,  unnoticed. 

"Then  you,  too,  have  observed  his  countenance?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Esther,  "it  is  quite  a  striking  one." 

"  He  seems  to  be  a  '  looker-on  in  Vienna,' "  remarked 
Emily,  who,  with  her  aunt  Carroll  and  Mr.  Everett, 
now  joined  them. 

"  It  is  a  lovely  evening,"  said  Mr.  Everett ;  "  will 
not  the  ladies  take  a  stroll,  in  the  bright  moonlight  if" 

To  this  proposition  Esther  and  Emily  readily  ac- 
ceded ;  but  Mrs.  Carroll  said  that  her  days  of  romance 
were  over,  and  that  she  preferred  a  quiet  chat  with 
Mrs.  Wilton  to  a  star-gazing  expedition  ;  and  Marga- 
ret, pleading  fatigue,  decided  to  remain  with  the  qui- 
eter party. 

"  Confess  now,  Mr.  Everett,"  said  Emily,  as  they 
walked  along  the  smooth  road,  shaded  by  trees, 
through  whose  thick  canopy  the  moonlight  softly  fell, 
"  confess  that  you  prefer  our  northern  summer  to 
your  hot,  parching,  southern  skies  ;  and  that  the  music 
of  the  wind  sighing  through  the  rustling  leaves — " 


182  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  Mingled  with  the  croaking  of  the  frogs,"  inter- 
rupted Mr.  Everett. 

"  Yes,  I  accept  the  amendment,"  rejoined  Emily  ; 
"even  the  songs  of  the  frogs  are  far  preferable  to  the 
hum  of  the  mosquitoes,  which  surrounds  you  in  your 
gorgeous  southern  home." 

"  Ah  !  there  you  touch  a  tender  point,"  replied  Mr. 
Everett ;  "  though  there  is  a  slight  satisfaction,  to  a 
person  snugly  ensconced  behind  a  mosquito-bar,  in 
the  thought  that  he  is  free  from  his  aerial  tormentors. 
But,  Miss  Sidney,"  he  continued,  "  let  us  for  once,  lay 
aside  the  weapons  in  defence  of  our  respective  sec- 
tions. I  hang  out  a  flag  of  truce,  and  pray  for  an 
armistice." 

"  I  agree,"  said  Emily ;  "  for,  I  dare  say,  your  forces 
need  a  few  days  to  rally  in,  particularly  that  forlorn 
hope,  which  you  led  up  so  gallantly  to  the  defence  of 
that  weak  position,  your  peculiar  institution,  a  few 
evenings  since." 

"  I  would  not  say  a  word  in  reply,  Mr.  Everett," 
said  Esther,  "  for  you  know  pur  sex  must  always 
haverthe  last  word  ;  and  I  assure  you,  in  my  acquaint- 
ance with  Emily,  I  have  never  found  her  an  exception 
to  the  rule." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  a  race  ?"  asked  Emily,  "  if  it 
does  not  shock  your  ideas  of  decorum.  I'll  wager  a 
fig  that  I  beat  you  both;" — and  before  her  compan- 
ions could  reply,  taking  Esther  by  the  hand,  she  had 
started  at  a  rapid  pace,  looking  back,  and  beckoning 
to  Mr.  Everett,  who,  looking  rather  puzzled  for  a  mo- 
ment, at  length  followed  her  example. 


A   CHAT   m    SCHOOL-GIRL   FASHION.  183 

"  Ah  !  my  fair  Atalanta !  you  have  indeed  earned 
such  a  title,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  came  up,  panting, 
to  the  spot  where  the  two  girls  had  paused,  and  were 
leaning  against  a  tree.  "  But  are  you  not  nearly  ex- 
hausted by  such  exertion  ?" 

"  Oh  no !  this  is  just  the  night  for  a  scamper,"  re- 
plied Emily ;  "  and  I  have  half  a  mind  to  put  your 
gallantry  to  the  test,  by  challenging  you  to  another 
trial  of  speed." 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  not  subject  me  to  so  severe  a 
proof,"  said  Mr.  Everett. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Mr.  Everett,"  ex- 
claimed Esther,  breaking  the  silence  which  ensued  ; 
"and  don't,  I  beg  of  you,  give  me  the  answer — 
nothing." 

"  I  dare  say,"  remarked  Emily,  "  if  the  truth  were 
known,  those  thoughts  would  not  be  particularly  nat- 
tering to  us.  Were  you  not  thinking,"  she  continued, 
"  that  the  Eastern  ladies  are  a  strange  compound  of 
sense  and  nonsense  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  ladies,"  replied  Mr. 
Everett,  "  but  really  my  reflections  had  not  assumed 
so  distinct  a  form,  nor  were  they  upon  so  fair  sub- 
jects. I  was  thinking  how  very  tired  I  was  !" 

"I  can  sympathize  with  you  in  that,"  said  Esther, 
"  and  propose  a  return  to  the  house." 

"  Agreed,"  said  Emily ;  and  the  trio  proceeded 
slowly  homeward. 

'  "  And  now  good-night,  and  pleasant  dreams,"  said 
Mr.  Everett,  as  they  stood  once  more  upon  the  piazza  ; 
and,  gracefully  bowing,  he  left  them. 


CHAPTER  XY1L 

A   NEW   FRIEND. 

SEVERAL  days  had  slipped  away,  unmarked  by  any 
incident ;  for,  as  Emily  said,  "  Life  at  the  Springs,  is 
much  like  life  at  sea,  rather  monotonous ;  one  day 
being  a  fac-simile  of  all  the  others,  varied  only  by  the 
arrival  or  departure  of  guests,  in  the  one  case,  and  by 
speaking  a  vessel,  in  the  other." 

Mrs.  Wilton  still  seemed  feeble,  and  her  daughter's 
anxious  eyes  watched  her  every  movement ;  at  times 
the  vague  fear  that  her  mother  might  die,  made  her 
sick  at  heart,  but  she  banished  the  thought  at  once,  as 
if  with  it,  she  could  expel  the  danger.  One  day  in 
particular,  Mrs.  Wilton  had  been  unusually  weak  and 
prostrated,  and  Margaret  had  been  untiring  in  trying 
to  relieve  her,  till  at  evening  her  mother  insisted  that 
she  was  much  better,  and  that  her  child  should  walk 
out  a  while.  Margaret  could  not  restrain  her  grief, 
but  going  to  her  chamber,  she  buried  her  throbbing 
temples  in  the  pillow  and  wept  bitterly.  Soon  con- 
trolling herself  however,  she  started  for  a  walk  to  the 
spring,  as  she  had  promised  to  do  ;  but  as  she  came  to 
the  little  bridge  over  which  she  must  pass,  a  sudden 
faintness  caused  her  to  lean  for  support  against  the 


'A    NEW     FRIEND.  185 

railing.  The  moonlight  fell  upon  her  features,  which 
were  deathly  pale ;  every  thing  seemed  whirling 
about,  her,  and  she  would  have  fallen,  had  not  a  gen- 
tleman, who  was  walking  by,  caught  her  in  his  arms. 
The  fresh  spring  water,  which  he  plentifully  showered 
upon  her,  soon  revived  her,  and  Mr.  Mclntyre,  for  it 
was  he,  offered  to  assist  her  to  the  house. 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  but  accepted  his 
offered  arm.  Her  glance  of  astonishment  had  not  es- 
caped his  notice,  and  he  asked,  "  Am  I  then  so  differ- 
ent from  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  that  the  most  com- 
mon act  of  humanity  is  received  with  amazement? 
Do  not  deny  it,"  he  went  on  hurriedly.  "  You  won- 
dered that  I  should  perform  so  trifling  an  act  of  kind- 
ness." 

"  You  mistake,"  replied  Mrs.  Hastings,  "  I  did,  no 
doubt,  appear  surprised,  but  it  was  because  I  had  not 
expected  to  see  you  here,  or  to  receive  such  timely 
assistance."  She  glanced  at  him  and  saw  his  lip 
curled  as  if  he  deemed  her  ^deceiving  him,  and  she 
added,  "  I  have  heard  too  that  you  were  a  woman- 
hater,  and  have  always  supposed  that  one  of  that  class 
would  almost  scorn  to  do  a  service  to  one  of  the  de- 
spised race." 

"A  woman-hater!"  repeated  Mr.  Mclntyre, 
musingly ;  "  so  they  call  me  by  that  title,  do  they  ? 
But  they  mistake,  Mrs.  Hastings — 1  am  not.  No.  I 
admire  and  love  a  true,  noble-hearted  woman;  not 
such  painted  butterflies  as  flutter  around  the  brilliantly 
lighted  apartments  of  fashionable  life,  but  a  true 
woman  anywhere,  no  matter  if  in  a  log  cabin,  I  re- 


186  NOW-A-DAY3. 

spect  and  honor.  Ah !  but  it  is  a  hard  task  to  find 
one,"  he  went  on.  "  The  wise  man  never  spoke  more 
truly  than  when  he  exclaimed,  '  One  man  among  a 
thousand  have  I  found,  but  a  woman  among  all  these 
have  I  not  found.'  " 

"  I  do  not  feel  well  enough  to-night,  to  defend  my 
sex  from  such  sweeping  censure,"  replied  Margaret, 
"  but  tell  me  what  you  allege  against  us  as  our  great- 
est fault ;  perhaps  I  may  undeceive  you." 

"  A  want  of  truth,"  returned  Mr.  Mclntyre.  "  Even 
from  a  child,  a  subterfuge  comes  most  readily  to  a 
woman's  lips." 

"This  may  be  the  result  of  her  timidity,  if  such  is 
the  case,  which  I  am  not  prepared  to  admit." 

"  I  think  you  must  admit  it,"  replied  Mr.  Mclntyre, 
"  if  you  notice  your  companions.  How  many  evasive 
answers,  equivocations,  nay,  downright  falsehoods, 
pass  a  woman's  lips  daily !  Yes,  her  very  life  is  a 
lie.  Excuse  me,  but  was  it  not  your  first  impulse  to 
tell  me  but  half  the  tnjth  to-night,  which  is  almost  a 
lie.  You  are  offended,"  he  said,  as  Margaret  colored 
and  remained  silent. 

"By  no  means,"  she  quickly  replied.  "It  is  the 
part  of  a  friend  to  tell  us  our  faults-;  and  I  shall  hope 
to  show  you,  that  you  have  judged  woman  too  harshly 
from  a  few  individuals." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  be  undeceived,"  replied  her 
companion,  "  but  when  I  see  such  a  state  of  society 
as  now  exists,  and  hear  so  much  of  the  hollow  jingle 
of  unfelt  compliments,  it  will  be  a  hard  task  to  con- 
vince me,  I  fear." 


A   NEW    FRIEND.  187 

"  Nevertheless  I  shall  try  it,  and  if  I  succeed  in  so 
difficult  an  undertaking,  the  greater  will  be  the  glory 
of  my  victory.  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  assistance, 
Mr.  Mclntyre,"  she  added,  as  they  parted  at  the  hall 
door. 

"  How  pale  you  look  !"  exclaimed  Esther,  as  Mar- 
garet entered  the  chamber.  "  What  has  happened  ? 
It  cannot  be  that  your  mother  is  worse  ?  I  left  her 
sleeping  quietly  a  few  minutes  since." 

"  No,  nothing  of  the  sort,"  replied  Margaret.  "  I 
am  suifering  from  one  of  my  usual  headaches  and 
feel  a  little  faint ;  indeed  I  do  not  know  as  I  could 
have  walked  up  the  hill,  had  not  Mr.  Mclntyre  sup- 
ported me." 

"  Mr.  Mclntyre !"  ejaculated  Esther,  "  that  is  a  won- 
der indeed,  but  do  let  me  bathe  your  poor  head  with 
cold  water,"  and  she  smoothed  Margaret's  soft  hair 
lovingly  and  bathed  her  fevered  brow. 

Emily  Sidney  was  sitting  the  same  evening  with 
her  aunt  Carroll.  "  Oh,  dear  Aunty !"  she  exclaimed, 
"  hav'nt  you  nearly  finished  your  long  lecture  on  pro- 
priety? Now  do  be  good  and  smile  one  of  your  own 
smiles,  and  let's  talk  about  something  else." 

"  That's  always  your  way,  Emily,"  returned  Mrs. 
Carroll ;  "  you  always  manage  to  turn  off  all  my  re- 
bukes; but  really  I  do  not  like  your  habit  of  making 
acquaintances,  without  first  finding  out  who  they  are, 
and  I  must  protest  against  it.  I  despise  the  way  that 
so  many  of  these  young  girls  have,  of  dancing  and 
flirting  with  every  gentleman  who  comes  near  them." 


188  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  That  you  can't  accuse  me  of,"  said  Emily. 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  should  hope  not,"  replied  Mrs. 
Carroll,  "  but  you  must  remember  that  '  an  ounce  of 
prevention  is  worth  a  pound  of  cure.'  " 

"  But,  Aunt  Carroll,  I  am  sure  that  Mrs.  Beck,  on 
whose  account  I  have  had  this  long  address,  is  a  lady, 
and  very  agreeable,  and  what  do  I  care  if  she  is  not 
wealthy  or  of  an  old  family,  for  from  what  I  can 
gather  from  your  remarks,  persons  possessed  of  such 
qualifications  are  to  be  my  only  associates ;  and  I 
must  say  that  I  prefer  good  company  without  these 
accessions,  to  stupid  people  of  wealth  and  fashion." 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  Em.  These  school-girl  no- 
tions of  yours  will  wear  off,  I  trust,  in  time,  and  now 
you  may  read  aloud  to  me,  if  you  will." 

"  What  shall  I  read  ?     Shall  it  be  Pendennis  ?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  ca/e  what,''  replied  Mrs.  Carroll; 
"  any  thing  will  do.  I'm  rather  wakeful  to-night,  and 
nothing  helps  me  to  sleep  so  soon,  as  reading  aloud." 

"  It  would  keep  me  awake,"  said  Emily,  "  but  I 
will  do  as  you  request." 

She  had  not,  however,  read  more  than  a  page  or 
two,  when  the  regular  breathing  of  her  listener  proved 
that  the  dose  had  been  successful,  and  with  a  smile, 
Emily  laid  aside  her  book. 

Several  weeks  passed  on,  during  which  time,  Mr. 
Wilton  had  returned  to  his  business,  and  Mr.  Mclntyre 
had  attached  himself  to  the  party,  proving,  when  he 
chose  to  exhibit  his  powers  of  pleasing,  to  be  a  very 
agreeable  companion.  He  had  received  Mrs.  Carroll's 


A  NEW    FRIEND.  189 

sanction,  after  a  long  consultation  with  several  ladies, 
who  informed  her  that  he  was  of  unexceptionable 
family,  and  very  wealthy.  Mrs.  Wilton  was  much 
better,  and  joined  frequently  in  the  walks  and  rides 
which  diversified  the  monotony  of  life  at  the  Springs. 


CHAPTER 

SECOND   LOVE. 

IT  was  evening — Margaret  was  standing  upon  the 
piazza,  leaning  against  one  of  its  wooden  pillars. 
She  had  been  listening  to  the  gay  conversation  of 
Mrs.  Carroll,  Emily  and  Esther,  who  were  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  admirers — Mr.  Everett  conspic- 
uous among  the  number — but  now  the  conversation 
had  slackened :  some  of  the  circle  had  retired  to  the 
piano,  to  listen  to  the  sweet  voice  of  Esther,  as  she 
sung  a  simple  melody ;  while  others  had  entered  a 
smaller  parlor  to  play  checkers,  backgammom,  cards, 
and  the  like  games.  The  windows  were  open,  and 
the  rattling  of  dice,  mingled  with  gay  laughter,  fell 
on  Margaret's  ear ;  she,  however,  did  not  appear  to 
share  the  universal  gayety.  Her  fine  eyes  were  filled 
with  a  sad  light,  and  her  whole  attitude  was  listless 
and  depressed.  It  was  evident  that  her  thoughts 
were  far  away.  She  started  suddenly,  as  if  recalled 
from  a  reverie,  as  Mr.  Mclntyre,  who  had  approached 
her  unobserved,  addressed  her.  "Are  you  building 
bright  castles  in  the  air,  Mrs.  Hastings  ?"  he  asked, 
"  if  so,  I  am  sorry  thus  rudely  to  call  you  back  to 
earth ;  but  no,"  he  continued,  "  if  I  misjudge  not, 


SECOND  LOVE.  191 

your  reverie  was  far  from  pleasant ;  but  why  should 
you  be  sad,  in  the  bloom  of  health  and  happiness, 
surrounded  by  troops  of  friends,  as  you  are  ?" 

"  True,"  replied  Margaret,  "  yet  how  long  can  all 
this  last  ?  Perhaps  I  was  brooding  over  some  of  your 
misanthropical  teachings — realizing  that  all  is  '  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit,' — thinking  of  loved  friends 
now  lost  to  me,  and  of  dear  ones  who  might  soon 
follow,"  and  involuntarily  her  glance  rested  on  her 
mourning  dress. 

"  But  your  heart  is  not  buried  with  the  dead ;  it 
was  not  of  your  late  husband,  you  thought,"  returned 
her  companion. 

A  flood  of  crimson  rushed  over  Margaret's  cheeks, 
neck  and  brow,  as  she  exclaimed,  "  this  is  too  much  ! 
You  presume  too  far,  Mr.  Mclntyre,  on  my  friend- 
ship." 

"Forgive  me,"  he  replied,  "for  my  presumption  in 
thus  addressing  you.  It  is  a  habit  of  mine  to  give 
expression  to  my  true  thoughts — I  have  always  found 
it  offensive  in  society,  and  unable  or  unwilling  to  use 
words  to  conceal  my  opinions,  I  have  withdrawn 
myself  from  it,  until  in  you,  I  fancied  that  I  had 
found  a  friend,  who  would  be  willing  to  receive  my 
blunt  words  as  they  were  meant, — kindly — I  thank 
you  for  the  few  hours  of  happiness  which  you  have 
shed  over  my  desolate  life,  even  if  that  pleasure  can 
exist  now,  only  in  the  past,  since  by  my  presumption 
I  have  forfeited  my  claims  to  your  regard."  He 
turned  abruptly  away,  but  Mrs.  Hastings  recalled 
him. 


192  NOW-A-DAT8. 

"  Let  me  then  tell  you  that  truth,  which  you  pride 
yourself  so  much  upon  always  speaking — perhaps  you 
may  find  it  as  unpalatable  as  your  friends : — You  are 
too  impetuous,  too  ready  to  take  offence  where  none 
is  intended ;  very  apt  to  say  disagreeable  things  in  a 
disagreeable  way,  and  then  expect  poor  human  nature 
to  receive  them,  without  wincing.  There  are  some 
home-truths  for  you,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  and  now, 
don't  you  agree  with  the  rest  of  humanity,  that  the 
whole  truth  is  too  much  of  a  good  thing  ?" 

"  No,"  returned  Mr.  Mclntyre,  "  from  you  I  can 
receive  what  perhaps,  I  confess,  from  others  I  might 
resent,  and  under  your  guidance,  if  you  would  curb 
such  a  wayward  and  impetuous  nature,  I  might 
become  very  much  changed." 

"  I  fear  that  you  over  estimate  my  ability  to  check 
the  faults  of  others ;  I  find  it  far  easier  to  discover 
deficiencies  and  positive  errors  in  myself  and  in  my 
friends,  than  to  correct  them,  in  either  case." 

"  In  other  words,  you  would  tell  me,  Mrs.  Hastings, 
that  you-  have  not  sufficient  interest  in  me,  to  induce 
you  to  undertake  such  an  uninviting  task,  and  that  I 
must  be  to  you  only  one  of  your  common  acquaint- 
ances, remembered,  if  at  all,  as  a  singular  and  rather 
melancholy  man.  Yet  I  have  hoped  for  a  higher 
place  than  this,  in  your  regard,"  he  continued,  "  and 
though  what  I  am  about  to  say  to  you  may  seem 
abrupt,  yet  I  will  say  it : — I  love  you,  Margaret,  and 
have  sought  your  affection  in  return — I  know  that  it 
would  have  been  more  in  harmony  with  the  usages 
of  society,  if  I  had  allowed  a  longer  time  to  pass 


SECOND   LOVE.  193 

before  telling  you  of  ray  feelings,  but  I  am  not 
shackled  by  such  fetters. — You  know  much  of  my 
history ;  left  an  orphan,  and  my  fondest  hopes 
betrayed  by  false  friends,  I  have  led  a  lonely  life ;  but 
now,  if  your  love  can  be  mine,  a  bright  future  is  in 
store  for  me — if  not,  I  can  but  go  on  my  desolate  way 
as  before." 

He  paused  for  a  reply,  but  Margaret  made  none. — 
"You  do  not  reply — how  am  I  to  interpret  your 
silence?"  he  asked,  after  some  little  time. 

Margaret's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  as  she  raised 
them  slowly  to  his  face,  and  replied,  "  I  have  a  long 
story  to  tell  you  ;  when  you  have  heard  it,  you  may 
not  think  of  me  as  you  now  do." 

"  I  feel  sure  that  nothing  could  change  my  senti- 
ments," he  replied,  "  but  when  will  you  tell  me  this 
tale?" 

"  To-night — let  us  walk  a  while,  to  avoid  inquisitive 
eyes ;  in  the  meantime  I  will  tell  you  all." 

Mrs.  Hastings  took  her  companion's  offered  arm, 
and  in  a  low,  broken  voice,  told  him  the  story  of  her 
first  love,  and  of  her  marriage.  Mr.  Mclntyre's  ex- 
pressive countenance  betrayed  a  variety  of  emotions, 
as  she  went  on,  but  she  did  not  look  at  him  till  she 
had  finished,  when  she  said,  "  now,  I  have  told  you 
all — do  you  not  despise  me,  as  I  do  myself?" 
•  "  No,  Margaret,''  was  the  reply,  while  his  eyes 
were  bent  upon  her  with  a  glance  of  affection,  "  your 
second  love  is  more  precious  to  me,  than  the  first  of 
any  other  woman.  Can  you  give  it  to  me  ?" 

The  hand  which  he  had  taken  in  his,  was  not  with- 
9 


194  NOW  A-DATS. 

drawn,  and  as  she  returned  his  gaze,  Mr.  Mclntvre 
was  satisfied. 

They  walked  on  for  a  few  moments  in  silence  when, 
observing  that  Margaret  had  no  shawl  on,  her  com- 
panion proposed  a  return  to  the  house ;  "  I  must  be 
careful  of  my  newly  found  treasure,"  he  said,  "lest 
it  escape  me — even  now,  I  fear  that  like  the  fairy 
gifts,  it  may  vanish  in  the  morning." 

"  There  is  no  danger  of  that,  it  is  of  quite  too  sub- 
stantial a  nature,"  replied  Margaret,  as  she  bade  her 
friend  good-night,  and  hastened  to  her  chamber.  She 
had  not  been  long  there  when  Esther  entered, — "  You 
here  already !''  she  exclaimed,  on  seeing  her  step- 
mother, "  I  hope  you  have  not  another  of  your  head- 
aches ! — How  thoughtless  in  me  to  spend  the  whole 
evening  in  gayety,  while  you  have  been  suffering 
here!" 

"  Don't  reproach  yourself  too  soon,  Esther,"  said 
Margaret,  with  a.smile,  "but  let  me  tell  you  how  I 
have  passed  my  time." 

Esther  listened  in  amazement  to  Margaret's  recital 
of  her  engagement  to  Mr.  Mclntyre,  then  in  a  low 
voice  said,  "  But  what  of  Arthur  Hammond  ?  Did 
you  tell  Mr.  Mclntyre  ?" 

"  Oh,  Esther !"  exclaimed  Margaret,  much  pained, 
"  could  you  think  that  I  would  wrong  another  noble 
man,  by  not  telling  him  all,  or  by  marrying  him 
when  I  loved  another  ?" 

"  Then  you  have  ceased  to  love  Arthur !" 

"  Thank  Heavens,  yes !"  replied  Margaret ;  "  I  have 
not  yet  told  you,  though  I  have  several  times  been  on 


SECOND    LOVE.  195 

the  point  of  it ;  that  not  long  since,  I  met  Arthur 
again.  To  my  surprise  and  delight,  I  found  that  my 
feelings  were  entirely  changed  towards  him.  I  saw 
plainly,  that  if  my  wild  and  varying  temperament 
would  have  annoyed  him,  that  his  rigid  ideas  would 
have  no  less  tormented  me.  In  fact,  that  he  was  as 
far  from  being  perfect  as  I  myself;  and  I  really  felt 
relieved  to  think  that  I  was  not  his  wife.  I  have 
wanted  to  tell  you  this  before,  but  the  truth  was,  Es- 
ther, I  was  a  little  ashamed,  after  the  strong  expres- 
sions that  I  had  used  about  him,  to  you,  to  own  that 
the  idol  had  fallen.  I  believe  that  every  woman  has 
one  ardent  attachment  for  some  one,  unlike  what  she 
ever  feels  for  another ;  but  I  am  by  no  means  sure 
that  it  is  best  for  her  to  marry  the  object  of  it.  Mr. 
Mclntyre,  I  not  only  esteem,  but  love.  I  think  we 
are  suited  to  each  other,  aud  I  feel  sure  that  I  can 
make  him  happy,  and  anticipate  no  less  happiness 
myself.  This  isn't  a  very  romantic  view  of  the  sub- 
ject." she  added,  as  Esther  stood  in  silence  loosening 
her  abundant  hair,  "  but  it  is  the  true  one,  I  think." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Esther,  thoughtfully,  "  at  all 
events,  I  wish  you  all  possible  happiness  with  the 
man  of  your  choice." 

A  few  days  after  this  conversation,  as  Margaret 
and  Esther  were  seated  in  their  room,  Margaret 
reading  aloud,  while  Esther  sat  sewing,  and  Mrs. 
Wilton  leaning  back  in  a  rocking-chair,  with  her  thin 
hands  folded,  listened  to  her  daughter's  reading,  an 
accomplishment  in  which  she  excelled,  a  light  rap 
was  heard  at  the  door,  and  Emily  Sidney  entered. 


196  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  home,"  she  said, 
"  and  Mr.  Templeton  is  coming  to-day,  to  spend  a 
few  days  here,  and  then  going  to  take  aunt  Carroll 
and  me  home.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  am  glad  of  it,  for 
I  am  tired  of  staying  here." 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Templeton  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Wilton. 

"A  friend  of  father's,"  replied  Emily,  slightly 
blushing. 

"  And  of  the  daughter  also,  I  suspect,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilton. 

"  Certainly. — He  has  always  been  a  great  friend  of 
our  family,  and  I  think  you  will  like  him.  Aunt 
Carroll  thinks  him  perfect,  and  you  and  she  agree  so 
well  on  most  points,  that  I  think  it  probable  you  will 
be  united  in  this." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  of  a  new  arrival,  who  promises 
to  be  an  addition  to  our  party,"  exclaimed  Margaret, 
"  for  I  am  tired  of  seeing  new  faces  that  tell  the  same 
story  of  insipidity,  and  seeing  people  whose  only 
object  or  use  in  life,  seems  to  be  the  wearing  of  hand- 
some silks  and  jewelry." 

"  In  short,"  added  Esther,  "  you  are  tired  of  the 
Springs,  since  one  great  attraction,  Mr.  Mclntyre,  has 
left  them.  At  least,  since  his  -departure,  you  have 
suddenly  had  your  eyes  very  widely  opened  to  the 
fact,  that  the  people  here  are  very  much  as  they 
have  been  ever  since  we  came  here,  good,  but  slightly 
common-place  individuals." 

"  No  matter  what  has  cleared  my  vision,"  replied 
Margaret,  laughing,  "  the  fact  remains  the  same  ;  and 


SECOND   LOVE.  197 

I  propose  that  we  leave  here,  when  Mrs.  Carroll  and 
Emily  do." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so,"  replied  her  mo- 
ther ;  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  home  again,  to  have 
a  decent-sized  room ;  and,  in  fact,  to  have  comforts 
once  more — I  will  go  and  write  to  your  father  now," 
she  continued,  as  she  entered  her  room. 

The  day  wore  slowly  away  to  Emily ;  but  five 
o'clock  did  come  at  last,  bringing  with  it  the  stage, 
and  a  load  of  passengers,  among  whom  was  Mr. 
Templeton. 

"  Really  a  very  fine  looking  man,"  said  Margaret, 
in  an  under  tone,  to  Esther,  after  both  had  been  in- 
troduced ;  and  he  had  passed  on  to  a  seat,  by  the  side 
of  Mrs.  Carroll,  who  seemed  determined  to  monopo- 
lize him.  "  He  looks  as  if  he  knew  something.  I  won- 
der what  he  sees  in  Emily  to  fancy.  See  what  a  con- 
trast between  his  fine,  intellectual  face,  and  her  plea- 
sant, but  far  from  intelligent  countenance. 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  accounting  for  tastes,"  replied  Es- 
ther ;  "  and  I  have  always  heard  that  intellectual  men 
prefer  a  simple-hearted  and  affectionate  woman,  like 
our  dear  Em,  to  any  one  suspected  of  being  blue." 

"  I  know,"  answered  Margaret,  "  that  such  men 
usually  prefer  a  humble  worshipper  to  a  woman 
who,  while  she  honors  their  excellencies,  sees  also 
their  deficiencies." 

"  But  do  you  not  think  these  worshippers,  as  you 
call  them,  better  calculated  than  the  other  class  to 
make  home  happy  for  their  husbands?"  asked  Esther. 

"  No,"  replied  Margaret ;  "  the  quiet,  simple  home 


198  NOW-A-DAYS. 

virtues  may  please  them  for  a  while ;  but  they  will 
soon  tire  of  them,  unless  acccompanied  by  the  power 
of  appreciating  their  higher  nature.  Every  man 
wants  sympathy  in  his  most  engrossing  pursuits,  and 
so  does  every  woman.  How  can  they  find  it,  if  the 
thoughts  of  the  one  never  go  beyond  the  four  walls 
of  her  dwelling,  while  the  other  is  of  far-reaching 
and  comprehensive  mind !" 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  returned  Esther,  "  that  in  such 
cases,  there  must  be  unhappiness,  unless  there  is  an 
abundance  of  that  love  that  covereth  all  deficiencies ; 
but  happily  Emily  is  not  such  a  being  as  you  describe. 
She  is  a  true  woman — kind,  loving,  and  intelligent ; 
and  I  wonder  that  you  do  not  value  her  as  highly  as 
I  do." 

"  Don't  ask  impossibilities,  Ettie ;  I  do  like  her 
very  well,  but  I  can't  see  her  with  your  eyes. — There, 
poor  Mr.  Templeton  has  at  last  escaped  from  Mrs. 
Carroll ;  I  doubt  not,  to  his  great  relief,"  continued 
Margaret,  and  as  she  spoke,  Emily  and  her  lover 
joined  them.  He  was  indeed,  as  Margaret  had  said, 
a  fine-looking  man,  though  his  strongly-marked  fea- 
tures could  by  no  means  be  called  handsome.  He 
was  apparently  about  thirty-five  years  of  age.  His 
voice  was  deep  and  clear,  and  though  he  said  but 
little,  his  remarks  were  always  to  the  point. 

"  Whatever  he  says  means  something,"  remarked 
Margaret,  "which  is  more  than  can  be  said,  with 
truth,  of  the  generality  of  people." 

It  was  now  the  day  before  the  departure  of  their 
party  from  the  Springs,  and  all  necessary  arrange- 


SKCOND   LOVE.  199 

ments  had  been  made.  Esther  and  Emily  had  made 
their  farewell  visits  to  their  favorite  haunts,  and  now 
'  sat  together  for  their  last  chat,  at  twilight. 

"  You  will  be  sure  to  come  and  make  me  a  long 
visit,  this  winter,  won't  you,  Esther  ?"  were  the  part- 
ing words  of  Emily,  and  as  her  friend  replied  "  I  will, 
if  I  possibly  can,"  she  insisted,  "  'where  there's  a  will, 
there's  a  way,'  and  I  shall  expect  you." 

Good-nights  were  exchanged,  and  Esther  retired  to 
her  chamber.  Margaret,  sitting  by  the  window,  was 
dreaming  pleasant  day-dreams,  she  was  holding  an 
open  letter  in  her  hand,  the  first  she  had  received 
from  Horace  Mclntyre. 

"How  bright  the  world  seems  to  me !"  she  said,  as 
Esther  knelt  by  her  side,  caressing  her,  "  It  is  so 
pleasant,  I  fear  that  it  will  not  last ; — my  mother's 
health  so  much  improved ;  both  of  my  parents  so 
well  pleased  with  Horace,  and  his  love  for  me  so 
ardent ; — I  am  happy,  indeed !" 

"Yes,  dear  Margaret,"  replied  Esther,  "  you  are 
indeed  blessed ;  but  forget  not  who  is  the  author  of 
all  this,  and  do  not  bestow  your  whole  heart  on  the 
gifts — look  up  to  the  Giver,  in  Heaven — " 

\Iargaret  interrupted  Esther  with  a  kiss,  and  made 
no  reply.  It  was  always  thus,  when  she  was  reminded 
of  her  duty  to  the  Father  of  all ;  on  this  one  subject 
she  was  unapproachable,  and  met  all  of  Esther's 
attempts  at  such  conversations  with  impenetrable 
reserve. 


CHAPTEK  XIX. 

SECOND   MAREIAGE. 

"  GOOD-MORNING,  Maggie,  dear !"  said  Mrs.  Wilton, 
entering  the  little  breakfast-room,  where  Mrs.  Hastings 
was  singing  and  chirping  to  her  pet  canary  bird, 
"  doesn't  it  seem  delightful  to  be  at  home  once  more  ?" 

"Charming,"  replied  Margaret,  at  the  same  time 
giving  Bobby  a  lump  of  sugar,  and,  ringing  the  bell, 
ordered  breakfast. 

Mr.  Wilton  and  Esther  now  entered,  and  ex- 
changing morning  salutations,  took  their  seats  at  the 
table. 

I  had  no  idea  that  Newton  was  so  pretty  a  place," 
said  Esther,  as  she  sipped  her  coffee,  "I  have  been 
looking  out  of  my  chamber  window  for  a  long  time ; 
there  is  such  a  fine  view  from  it,  o~f  the  quiet  lake, 
shining  through  the  trees." 

"  That  is  only  one  of  the  thousand  attractions  of 
Newton,"  replied  Mr.  Wilton  ;  "  Margaret  must  show 
you  all  its  charms." 

"  I  fully  intend  it,  sir,"  returned  his  daughter,  "  I 
assure  you  it  shall  be  no  fault  of  mine,  if  any  nook  in 
the  woods  around  remains  unexplored." 


SECOND    MAKBIAGE.  201 

"  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  yourselves  finely,  to-day,"  said 
Mr.  Wilton,  at  the  same  time  looking  at  his  watch, 
and  remarking  that  it  was  nearly  time  for  the  cars  to 
start,  he  hurried  off. 

Newton  was  a  small  town,  not  far  from  Boston,  and 
one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  that  vicinity. 

Mr.  Wilton's  residence  was  a  fine  one,  situated  on 
a  sloping  spot  of  ground,  surrounded  by  fine  trees, 
and  a  tastefully  arranged  garden  ;  arbors  covered  with 
vines  clustering  with  grapes,  were  scattered  invitingly 
through  the  grounds ;  and  here  Margaret  and  Esther 
spent  a  large  portion  of  their  time,  arranging  flowers, 
reading,  sewing,  or  indulging  in  a  favorite  amusement 
of  both,  building  air-castles.  Thus,  several  weeks 
passed ; — Mr.  Mclntyre  was  daily  expected  to  visit 
them,  and  Esther  began  to  feel  that  she  ought  to  be 
"  up  and  doing,"  again. 

"  I  have  two  letters  to  show  you,"  she  said,  as  Mar- 
garet and  she  were  sitting  alone,  on  one  of  the  shaded 
seats  in  the  garden — "  One  is  from  our  good  Mr. 
Merrill,  telling  me  of  a  very  lucrative  situation,  as 
assistant  teacher  in  an  Academy,  which  I  can  have 
by  applying  soon  ;  and  the  other  from  no  less  a  person 
than  our  watering-place  acquaintance,  Mr.  Everett, 
in  which  he  does  me  the  honor  of  placing  his  hand, 
heart,  and  fortune  at  my  disposal." 

"  Really  !"  exclaimed  Margaret,  "  and  what  reply 
shall  you  make?'' 

"What  is  your  advice?"  asked  Esther— "Do  you 
who  take  such  practical  views  on  the  subject  of  mar- 
riage, advise  me  to  get  married  for  a  home  and  good 


202  NOW-A-DAYS. 

living,  or  to  accept  Mr.  Merrill's  offer  of  the  situation 
as  teacher?" 

"  I  advise  you  to  do  neither,"  replied  Margaret, 
"but  can't  you  make  yourself  believe  that  you  are  a 
very  little — just  a  wee  bit — in  love  with  Mr.  Everett?" 

"  No,  Maggie,  that  is  beyond  my  powers  of  imagi- 
nation, and  romantic,  if  you  chose  to  call  me,  still  it 
is  my  firm  resolve,  never  to  give  my  hand  without  my 
heart ;  and  I  shall  never  venture  on  the  perilous  ex- 
periment of  marrying  without  ardent  affection,  in  the 
vain  hope  that  it  will  come  after  the  ceremony  is 
performed,  which  ties  me  for  life  to  some  good  man." 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  her  step-mother,  after  a 
pause,  "  but  don't  think  of  putting  yourself  into  the 
bondage  of  school-teaching  immediately; — I  shall 
insist  on  your  remaining  with  me  till  I  am  married ; 
— I  want  your  good  taste  in  preparing  my  wardrobe, 
and  I  want  you  for  my  bridesmaid — now,  don't  say 
no  :  I  won't  listen  to  it,  if  you  do.  For  once,  let  me 
have  my  own  way." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilton  united  in  the  urgent  request, 
that  she  would  stay  with  them,  and  it  was  arranged 
that  she  should  remain  an  inmate  of  their  family 
until  Margaret  left  them. 

"Yet,  I  cannot  help  feeling  dependent," said  Esther 
to  Margaret,  "and  I  assure  you,  it  is  by  no  means  a 
pleasant  feeling." 

"  It  is  a  very  foolish  one  for  a  daughter  to  have  in 
her  father's  house,"  was  Margaret's  reply  ;  "but  now 
go  and  answer  your  letters,  my  dear,  and  be  careful 
that  you  don't  break  poor  Mr.  Everett's  heart." 


SECOM)    MAUKIAGK.  203 

"  Never  fear  that,  Maggie  ;  no  man  ever  died  of 
that  disease,  in  my  opinion,  unless  a  fever  or  some 
similar  malady  came  in  to  carry  him  off.  I  never 
had  the  vanity  to  think  my  charms  were  powerful 
enough  to  cause  such  a  disaster,  at  least." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  a  hard-hearted  little  thing  !"  retorted 
Margaret,  as  she  left  her  friend  in  the  library  with 
pen,  ink  and  paper  before  her. 

Mr.  Mclntyre  soon  arrived,  and  it  was  settled  that 
the  marriage  should  take  place  in  November,  as 
the  year  of  Margaret's  widowhood  had  then  expired. 

Margaret  appeared,  as  she  said  she  was,  very  happy. 
The  light  of  happiness  sparkled  in  her  dark  eye  ;  her 
step  was  elastic,  her  cheek  gained  new  bloom,  and 
her  form  new  roundness. 

"  I  shall  at  least  make  one  sad  heart  glad,"  she  said 
to  Esther,  after  she  had  communicated  to  her  some  of 
her  many  plans  for  the  future.  "  I  am  determined 
that  Horace  shall  at  length  know  what  a  happy  home 
is." 

November,  stormy  and  sullen,  came  on,  stripping 
the  leaves  ruthlessly  from  the  trees,  and  howling 
winds  sounded  through  the  dry  and  bare  branches. 
But  a  clear  day  dawned  upon  Newton,  on  the  ap- 
pointed time  for  Margaret's  nuptials. 

Very  beautiful  she  looked  in  her  simple  travelling 
costume,  as  she  pronounced  the  vows  that  united  her 
with  one  she  loved,  and  though  tears  filled  her  eyes 
on  parting  with  her  friends,  they  were  not  bitter 
ones. 

The  house  seemed  very  lonely  after  the  departure 


204:  NOW-A-DAYS. 

of  the  newly- wedded  pair  ;  they  missed  Margaret's 
sweet  songs,  her  merry  laugh,  her  cheerful  conversa- 
tion ;  and,  more  than  all,  her  mother  missed  the  ready 
hand  that  anticipated  her  every  wish. 

Esther  could  not  be  spared,  Mrs.  Wilton  said.  "  Do 
not  take  both  my  children  from  me  !"  she  exclaimed 
almost  imploringly  when  she  proposed  leaving,  and 
Esther  promised  that  she  would  defer  it  for  the  pre- 
sent at  least. 

The  stars,  one  by  one,  were  coming  out  in  the  clear 
heavens,  but  the  wind  was  cold  and  chill,  as  Marga- 
ret and  her  husband  approached  their  journey's  end. 

Margaret  leaned  from  the  carriage  window,  gazing 
ont  at  the  dreary  faded  landscape,  but  oftener  her 
eyes  sought  the  starry  heavens,  as  if  she  would  read 
there  her  own  future ;  very  pleasant  visions  she  saw 
there,  for  our  own  hearts  are  almost  always  cheerful 
prophets  if  we  question  them  of  the  misty  days  to 
come. 

Horace  cared  for  neither  stars  or  prophecies.  He 
read  in  Margaret's  eyes  her  happiness,  and  his  own 
was  complete.  He  did  not  for  a  long  time  intrude  on 
her  pleasant  reverie,  but  at  last,  as  the  carriage  en- 
tered a  rocky  defile,  which,  in  summer  when  crowned 
with  trees  and  mantled  with  vines  might  have  been 
picturesque,  but  now  was  almost  gloomy,  he  spoke — 
"  Margaret !  we  are  almost  home  !" 

The  word  thrilled  through  her  heart ;  it  summoned 
an  actual  present  before  her  that  was  brighter  than  any 
ideal  picture  in  the  future,  and  with  loving  eyes  she 
drew  closer  to  her  husband  and  pressed  his  hand 


SECOND   MARRIAGE.  205 

fondly,  then  leaned  again  from  the  window  to  gaze 
on  her  new  home. 

An  avenue  led  up  to  it,  where  now  only  skeleton 
branches  stiffly  swayed  in  the  cold  night  wind,  and 
the  paths  that  wound  through  the  extensive  grounds 
covered  with  dry  leaves,  that  had  lost  their  autumnal 
beauty,  looked  desolate  enough. 

The  house  was  a  quaint  looking  brown  building, 
not  quite  coming  under  the  denomination  of  a  cottage, 
yet  not  large  enough  to  deserve  any  other  title.  It 
was  built  in  a  fanciful  style,  not  according  to  any 
strict  architectural  rules  perhaps,  but  yet  giving  a 
favorable  impression  to  the  beholder.  It  had  several 
wings,  which,  though  irregular,  were  not  unpleasing, 
and  in  summer,  when  the  pillars  that  surrounded  a 
part  of  the  house  were  in  all  the  glory  of  vines,  and 
the  trees  which  now  tossed  their  branches  heavily 
against  the  walls  only  rustled  their  leaves  in  playful 
whispers,  it  must  have  been  a  charming  spot. 

It  did  not  look  dreary  to  Margaret  even  now,  and 
so  she  assured  Horace,  when  he  made  a  remark  of 
that  kind,  and  the  explanation  why  it  did  not,  which 
her  eyes  gave  as  she  said  gently,  "Is  it  not  our 
home  ?"  more  than  satisfied  him  of  her  truthfulness. 

He  led  her  first  into  the  parlor,  a  high-walled  room, 
furnished  in  just  the  way  that  thousands  of  parlors 
are,  rejoicing  in  the  same  carpets,  curtains,  mirrors, 
and  furniture. 

"  This,  Margaret,"  said  her  husband,  "  is  for  all  the 
world,  and  must  be  like  all  the  world.  Throw  off 
your  bonnet  now,  and  come  with  me." 


206  NOW-A-DAYS. 

He  led  her  through  a  winding  passage  to  another 
room.  There  was  but  one  bay  window  in  it,  and  the 
walls  were  lined  with  books. 

"  Our  library  !  How  charming!"  exclaimed  Mar- 
garet, as  she  flew  up  to  the  wTell-filled  cases  and 
glanced  at  the  the  books. 

A  centre  table,  piled  with  uncut  periodicals,  stood 
before  the  bright  fire  that  blazed  on  the  hearth,  mak- 
ing all  kinds  of  fantastic  shapes  on  the  polished  brass 
of  the  andirons. 

Two  or  three  paintings,  an  Evangeline,  a  holy, 
beautiful  face,  a  quiet  landscape,  and  a  wierd  looking 
sybil,  adorned  the  walls,  and  statuettes  occupied 
niches  in  the  room. 

There  was  a  lounge  placed  in  the  window,  and 
easy  chairs  were  scattered  in  the  room;  a  stained 
glass  window  on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace  Mar- 
garet approached. 

"That  is  a  door  which  leads  into  my  sanctum," 
said  her  husband,  who  had  been  enjoying  with  plea- 
sure equal  to  his  wife's  her  restless  flutter! ngs  to  and 
fro,  like  a  butterfly  flitting  from  flower  to  flower,  and 
her  eager  expressions  of  delight. 

He  opened  the  door  as  he  spoke,  and  disclosed  a 
small  room,  from  the  ceiling  of  which  hung  a  silver 
lamp.  It  was  lighted  now  only  by  the  dim  firelight 
from  the  library,  but  Margaret  saw  that  its  dark  oaken 
walls  were  unadorned,  and  that  it  possessed  none  of 
the  beauties  which  she  had  imagined  to  be  there. 

"  What  did  you  ever  do  in  this  gloomy  place,  that 
it  deserves  the  name  of  your  sanctum  ?"  she  asked, 


SECOND   MARRIAGE.  207 

"  Chewed  the  bitter  cud  of  fancy,"  her  husband  re- 
plied. "  Here  I  have  cursed  myself,  the  world,  and 
all  that  is  in  it." 

"  Well,  Horace,  that  is  past.  It  shall  now  be  our 
sanctum.  It  shall  have  paintings,  statuary,  birds  and 
flowers  placed  in  it;  it  shall  resound  with  laughter, 
and  gay  forms  shall  be  reflected  on  the  polished  sur- 
face of  its  old  oaken  walls.  It  shall  be  sacred  to  you 
and  I  now.  We  will  sit  here,  and  you  shall  read  to 
me,  and  I  will  sing  to  you,  and  we  will  talk,  till  you 
have  expiated,  in  thankfulness  for  life,  all  the  curses 
that  you  have  bestowed  upon  it.  Shall  it  not  be  so  ?" 
she  asked,  placing  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  look- 
into  his  eyes.  A  warm  embrace  was  his  only  reply, 
as  he  led  his  wife  from  the  library  into  that  which  he 
informed  her  was  her  own  sitting-room. 

It  was  a  quaintly-furnished  room,  filled  with  old- 
fashioned,  stiffly-carved  furniture,  fancifully  arranged. 
A  piano  stood  there,  and  Margaret  ran  her  fingers 
over  the  keys,  and  sang  a  glad  melody. 

"How  do  you  like  your  room?"  asked  her  hus- 
band. 

"  Oh,  ever  so  much ;  but  I  hall*  expect  to  see  some 
old  lady,  with  hoop  and  powdered  hair,  come  sailing 
majestically  in  to  tell  me  that  I  am  an  intruder.  Don't 
the  shades  of  the  past  linger  here  ?" 

"  If  they  do,"  replied  her  husband,  "  you  must  ex- 
orcise them  by  your  merry  laugh,  and  by  the  chat  of 
mortals.  You  may  fill  the  room  as  often  as  you  will 
with  troops  of  living,  and  crowd  out  the  dead." 

"  No,  Horace,  this  room  shall  be  sacred  to  my  dear- 


208  NOW-A-DAYS. 

est  friends.  The  parlor  for  the  world,  as  you  said, 
the  sanctum  for  us,  and  this  for  my  other  loved  ones. 
Come,  now,  I  want  to  see  the  rest  of  the  house,"  and 
she  ran  up  the  broad  staircase  and  commented  with 
eagerness  on  the  beauty  of  all  she  saw. 

The  dining-room  and  kitchen  did  not  pass  unno- 
ticed, but  Margaret  insisted  that  for  this  once  the 
library  should  serve  for  a  tea-room. 

"  This  is  all  mine  !"  said  she,  drawing  a  low  stool 
to  her  husband's  side  as  they  again  entered  the 
library,  and  though  it  was  not  more  elegant  than  the 
home  which  Mr.  Hastings  had  given  her,  love  made 
it  seem  doubly  so,  as  the  sunlight  which  streams  into 
a  dark  room  lends  a  fleeting  glory  to  all  within  it. 

Margaret  was  perfectly  happy,  and  her  gayety  ex- 
pressed itself  in  a  thousand  fantastical  ways,  on  all  of 
which  Horace  looked  with  admiration. 

She  would  insist  on  toasting  his  bread  before  the 
library  fire,  and  declared  that  she  would  show  him 
that  her  will  was  to  be  law  in  that  house. 

"  I  am  willing,"  replied  her  husband.  "  I  abdicate 
in  your  favor." 

"  Hem  ember  that,  now ;  I  shall  remind  you  of  it 
some  time,"  she  said  jestingly,  "-when  you  are  in- 
clined to  play  the  lord  and  master." 

So  they  talked  on  gaily,  and  absorbed  in  each  other, 
they  hardly  thought  of  other  friends. 

'Tis  even  so.  Love  is  at  first  selfish,  for  it  is  so  all- 
absorbing  that  it  swallows  up,  lite  an  overflowing 
river,  all  that  lies  in  its  way  ;  yet  when  it  subsides  in 
part,  and  flows  in  its  true  channel  once  more,  a 


SECOND    MARRIAGE.  209 

deeper,  calmer  current,  is  not  the  heart  enriched  by 
the  deluge  ?  And  do  not  olden  affections  spring  up 
with  renewed  strength  and  verdure  ? 

Let  us  leave  them  in  their  new-found  happiness, 
and  glance  at  Newton  again. 

"  Here,  Miss  Ettie,  is  a  letter  for  you  !"  said  Mr. 
Wilton,  a  few  days  after  Margaret's  departure ;  as  she 
opened  it  a  piece  of  paper  fell  fluttering  to  her  feet. 
It  was  a  check  for  five  hundred  dollars,  purporting  to 
come  from  one  of  her  father's  debtors,  lent  to  him,  as 
he  said,  at  a  time  of  great  need  by  her  father,  and 
now  that  he  was  able  to  pay  it,  he  sent  it  to  the  daugh- 
ter. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  it  ?"  asked  Esther,  handing 
both  letter  and  check  to  Mr.  Wilton.  "  Ought  it  not 
to  go  to  the  creditors  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Wilton.  "  Your  father's  busi- 
ness being  all  settled,  it  belongs  of  right  to  you." 

"It  has  come  at  a  very  opportune  time,"  said 
Esther,  "  and  is  another  exemplification  of  the  truth 
of  the  passage,  '  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  and 
thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days.'  " 

As  she  left  the  room  Mrs.  Wilton  asked  her  hus- 
band if  he  had  any  idea  whence  it  came,  and  as  he 
smiled,  she  exclaimed,  "  I  suspected  you." 

"  Is  it  not  true  that  Mr.  Hastings  was  the  means  of 
my  getting  on  my  feet  once  more  after  my  failure  ? 
It  is  a  debt  I  can  never  repay,"  said  her  husband  with 
much  feeling,  "  and  Esther  is  too  delicate  to  receive 
any  thing  of  the  sort  voluntarily." 

"  It  was  just  like  you,  ever  considerate  and  thought- 


210  NOW-A-DAYS. 

ful,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilton,  and  the  subject  was  drop- 
ped as  Esther  re-entered  the  room. 

Winter  had  come,  bringing  with  it  the  long  eve- 
nings so  pleasant  in  the  home  circle.  The  hours  flew 
rapidly  by  with  Esther,  for  her  time  was  fully  occu- 
pied ;  she  felt,  too,  that  her  presence  was  of  use  to 
both  her  adopted  parents.  She  was  a  sunbeam  in 
the  house,  both  said,  and  their  encomiums  upon  her, 
in  their  letters  to  Margaret,  were  so  warm,  that 
she  replied,  "If  it  were  not  Esther,*!  should  be 
jealous." 

Mr.  Wilton  had  insisted  on  her  learning  to  play  the 
harp,  and  the  necessary  practice,  to  enable  her-  to 
make  any  proficiency,  together  with  the  opportunity 
which  Mr.  Wilton's  fine  library  afforded  her  of  grati- 
fying her  love  for  reading,  added  not  a  little  to  her 


"  What  are  you  pondering  upon  so  earnestly  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Wilton,  as  they  sat  together  one  morning. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Emily  Sidney,"  replied  Esther. 

"  When  did  you  hear  from  her  last  ?" 

"  Yesterday,"  was  the  reply.  "  She  urged  me  to 
come  and  visit  her,  as  Maria  and  Virginia,  two  old 
schoolmates,  are  coming,  and  insists  on  seeing  me." 

"  But  why  do  you  hesitate  to  accept  the  invitation  ?" 

"  I  cannot  leave  you  alone,  mother  dear,"  replied 
Esther. 

"  If  that  is  the  only  obstacle,  my  child,  it  is  one 
very  easily  removed.  Horace  has  just  written  a  line 
to  Mr.  Wilton,  saying  that  he  was  obliged  to  go  South 


SECOND   MAKRIAGE.  211 

on  business,  and  that  Margaret  is  coming  home  mean- 
while." 

"  Then  I  will  go,  if  you  think  it  best,"  returned  Es- 
ther, "and  will  write  Emily  that  she  may  expect 
me." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DOWN-EAST  AGAIN. 

"I  AM  so  glad  to  see  you,  my  dear  Esther!"  ex- 
claimed Emily  Sidney,  as  she  assisted  her  friend  to 
free  herself  from  her  many  wrappings.  "  I  knew  that 
winter  was  a  poor  time  to  visit  our  quiet  little  Bel- 
fast;  but,  as  Virginia  and  Maria  were  coming,  I 
hoped  it  would  be  pleasant  enough  to  make  you  forget 
our  cold  Maine  winters." 

"  Remember,  too,  that  I  am  a  Down-East  girl,"  re- 
plied Esther,  "  and.  not  at  all  afraid  of  the  cold  wea- 
ther. In  fact,  winter  is  my  favorite  season.  I  am 
delighted  to  see  a  good  sparkling  wood  fire  again," 
she  added,  approaching  the  hearth,  and  warming  her 
cold  hands.  "But  are  you  alone 2"  she  asked,  oil- 
serving  that  there  was  no  one  else  present. 

"  Yes  ;  all  of  the  family  have  gone  to  the  Lyceum, 
except  grandma  and  myself.  I  had  a  presentiment 
that  you  would  come  to-night.  But  let  us  go  to 
grandma's  room,  for  I  left  the  good  old  lady  alone, 
and  I  ought  to  stay  with  her." 

Esther  followed  Emily  through  the  long  entry,  up 
a  flight  of  winding  stairs,  to  the  room  which  she  had 
designated  as  grandmother's.  The  house  was  an  old- 


DOWN    EAST   AGAIN.  213 

fashioned  one,  but  very  large  and  comfortable  in  its 
appearance.  The  room  which  they  entered  was  wide, 
but  rather  low.  Old  Mrs.  Sidney  was  seated  in  a  low 
rocking-chair,  near  the  fire-place,  where  a  large  wood 
fire  was  blazing.  Near  her  stood  a  little  light  stand, 
upon  which  lay  an  open  Bible ;  her  knitting-work 
laid  in  her  lap,  and  she  had  evidently  been  reading ; 
but,  as  the  door  opened,  she  pushed  her  spectacles  up 
on  her  cap,  and  looked  curiously  at  Esther.  She  was 
dressed  in  black,  a  small  shawl  was  neatly  folded 
over  her  bosom,  and  her  cap  was  tied  simply  under 
her  chin.  A  large  Dutch  clock  stood  in  one  corner 
of  the  room  ;  an  old-fashioned  desk  occupied  another, 
on  which  laid  several  books,  in  equally  old-fashioned 
bindings.  Rocking-chairs,  of  various  shapes  and 
sizes,  with  a  lounge,  constituted  the  rest  of  the  furni- 
ture. 

A  cat  sat  purring  at  the  old  lady's  feet,  looking 
lazily  at  the  ball  of  yarn,  which  had  fallen  from  her 
capacious  pocket  upon  the  hearth,  in  tempting  prox- 
imity to  pussy ;  but  she,  like  her  mistress,  had  grown 
old,  and  her  play-days  were  over. 

All  this  Esther  saw  at  a  glance;  for  Emily  ap- 
proached her  grandmother,  saying,  in  a  loud  voice 
(for  the  old  lady  was  a  little  deaf),  "This  is  my 
friend,  Esther  Hastings ;  she  has  just  come,  in  the 
stage." 

Mrs.  Sidney  extended  her  hand  to  the  new  comer, 
and  looked  at  her  curiously.  "  Wall,  I'm  glad  to  see 
ye,  dear.  Hastings !  Hastings !"  she  repeated — 


214  NOW-A-DAY6. 

"  Sarah  Mansfield  married  a  Hastings.  Be  you  any 
relation  to  her  ?" 

"That  was  my  mother's  name,"  replied  Esther. 

"  Law,  now,  you  don't  say  so.  Why,  I  know'd  her 
when  she  wan't  much  older  than  you  be.  Wall, 
you're  the  pictur  of  her.  I  know'd,  as  soon  as  I  see 
you,  that  you  looked  like  somebody  I'd  seen.  Wall, 
she  was  a  pooty  gal,  and  a  good  gal,  too.  Set  up  to 
the  fire  and  warm  you,  dear,"  she  continued ;  "  you 
look  cold." 

Esther  did  as  she  was  requested ;  and,  drawing  her 
low  chair  to  the  fire,  looked,  in  her  turn,  rather  cu- 
riously at  Mi's.  Sidney. 

She  was  a  fine-looking  old  lady,  a  little  bent  by 
age ;  but  her  black  eye  was  undimmed,  and  a  lock  of 
hair,  which  had  escaped  from  her  cap,  still  retained 
its  jetty  hue. 

"  I  guess  111  smoke  a  little,"  she  said,  "  and  then  go 
to  bed." 

Her  grand-daughter  rose,  took  a  pipe  from  a  small 
box  on  the  end  of  the  mantel,  and,  lighting  it  at  the 
fire,  handed  it  to  her  grandmother. 

The  good  old  lady  seemed  to  enjoy  her  smoke  very 
much  ;  and  when  her  pipe  was  out,-  requesting  Emily 
"  to  rake  up  the  fire,  so  that  there  would  be  a  good 
bed  of  coals  in  the  morning,''  arose,  and  entered  her 
bedroom,  a  small  apartment  adjoining  the  one  where 
they  were  sitting. 

Emily  accompanied  her,  and  assisted  her  in  dis- 
robing, a  work  of  but  few  minutes,  and  then  carefully 
covered  up  the  fire,  crossed  the  andirons  in  most  ap- 


DOWN   EAST    AGAIN.  215 

proved  style,  and  laid  the  shovel  across  them,  saying, 
as  she  did  so,  "I  don't  know  as  grandmother  would 
sleep  a  wink  to-night,  if  she  were  not  sure  that  the 
andirons  were  placed  just  so ;  and  now,"  said  she, 
after  placing  the  chairs  Lack  in  proper  order,  "let  us 
go  down  into  the  sitting-room,  and  have  a  cozy  chat." 

This  was  also  a  large,  though  low  room,  rejoicing 
in  the  usual  bright  wood  fire.  It  was  simply  but 
comfortably  furnished.  A  large  secretary  or  book- 
case stood  on  one  side  of  the  room,  while  a  piano  oc- 
cupied the  other.  A  sofa,  large  and  wide,  was  placed 
across  the  wall,  opposite  the  fire.  The  chairs  were 
all  arranged  very  stiffly  in  their  places,  as  if  one 
would  hardly  venture  to  remove  them  from  their  re- 
spective stations.  A  large  centre-table  occupied  the 
middle  of  the  apartment,  on  which  a  bright  solar 
lamp  stood.  A  few  books,  placed  at  regular  distances, 
reposing  on  the  mahogany,  were  the  only  ornaments. 
A  little  hour-glass  table  stood  in  one  corner,  heaped 
with  work,  some  of  which  was  falling  off.  This  was 
the  only  disorderly  thing  in  the  room.  Emily  at  once 
set  to  work  to  remedy  this  ;  and,  folding  each  piece 
separately,  soon  reduced  it  to  order. 

"  Mother's  table,"  said  she,  "  is  always  in  a  litter  ; 
she  isn't  what  you  would  call  a  particular  bod)  at  all : 
but  aunt  Mary's  eyes  will  spy  out  anything.  I  think 
it  looks  so  cheerful  to  see  everything  in  place,  that  I 
always  try  to  have  everything  in  order  before  the 
family  come  home." 

Esther  looked  at  the  rigidly  fixed  furniture,  and 
longed  to  get  her  hands  upon  the  different  articles, 


216  NuW-A-DAYS. 

and  place  them  in  a  more  comfortable  position :  but 
she  made  no  remarks,  as  Emily  swept  the  hearth  care- 
fully, and  lifted  a  refractory  stick  of  wood  into  place. 
"  There,"  said  she,  throwing  herself  into  a  rocking- 
chair,  which  appeared  to  be  fixed  OH  a  certain  figure 
of  the  carpet — "  there,  all's  tidy  now,  I  believe ;  and 
now,  do  tell  me  all  about  Mrs.  Hastings'  marriage. 
Wasn't  it  rather  sudden  ?  I  knew  she  and  Mr.  Mcln- 
tyre  seemed  to  like  each  other  very  much,  but  I  never 
dreamed  of  their  becoming  one  flesh." 

"I  hear  footsteps,"  said  Esther;  "and  though  there 
isn't  much  to  tell,  I'll  wait  till  some  other  time." 

"  Yes,"  said  Emily,  "  they  are  coming  home ;  the 
bell  rung  for  nine  a  few  moments  ago." 

In  fact,  the  door  opened,  and  quite  a  party,  as  it 
seemed  to  Esther,  entered — Mrs.  Sidney,  her  husband, 
aunt  Mary,  and  brother  Ned,  as  she  was  informed. 
She  was  received  by  Mrs.  Sidney  with  a  passive  "  How 
d'ye  do  ?"  by  Mr.  Sidney,  with  a  keen  glance  and  a 
warm  grasp  of  the  hand,  while  Aunt  Mary  kissed  her, 
and  Ned  welcomed  her  joyously,  saying  "  that  he  sup- 
posed Em  was  perfectly  happy  now." 

Emily  now  busied  herself  in  taking  her  mother's 
bonnet,  ribbons  and  cloak,  and  Esther  looked  with  a 
good  deal  of  curiosity  at  her  new  acquaintances. 

Mrs.  Sidney,  divested  of  her  wrappings,  was  a  pale, 
delicate  looking  woman,  whose  blue  eyes  expressed 
neither  much  energy  or  warm  affections.  She  fell 
back  almost  exhausted  in  the  rocking  chair  which  Em- 
ily had  left,  and  seemed  unconscious  that  the  rockers 
had  become  entangled  in  another  chair  which  Ned 


DOWN   EAST    AGAIN.  217 

had  drawn  near  it,  and,'  finding  it  impossible  to  rock, 
she  had  resigned  herself  to  a  state  of  quiet,  and  had 
not  even  taken  the  trouble  to  look  behind  her.  Mr. 
Sidney  was  a  tall  but  rather  spare  man.  His  features 
were  large  and  far  from  handsome.  His  brow,  care- 
worn and  wrinkled,  was  shaded  by  dark  hair  thickly 
sown  with  gray.  He  took  the  slippers  handed  him  by 
Emily,  gave  in  exchange  his  boots,  and  settled  himself 
comfortably  upon  the  sofa.  Aunt  Mary  and  Ned  had 
left  the  room,  and  there  was  a  silent  pause.  Mrs.  Sid- 
ney did  not  appear  to  notice  the  break  in  the  conver- 
sation, but  her  husband  seemed  to  feel  in  duty  bound 
to  say  something,  and  began  to  ask  some  questions 
about  the  travelling,  remarking  that  a  stage  ride  in 
winter  was  anything  but  agreeable. 

Esther  replied  to  this  at  as  .great  length  as  possible, 
but  was  as  much  relieved  as  Mr.  Sidney  evidently  was, 
at  the  entrance  of  Aunt  Mary,  who,  quietly  and  with- 
out the  painful  appearance  of  effort  which  had  distin- 
guished her  brother's  attempts  at  conversation,  soon 
made  Esther  feel  quite  at  home,  while  Mr.  Sidney  re- 
lapsed into  silence. 

Aunt  Mary  was  tall  and  finely  formed  ;  she  had  a 
great  abundance  of  black  hair  which  was  tastefully 
arranged  ;  her  features,  though  not  regular,  were  pleas- 
ing, and  her  eyes,  large  and  deep,  lighted  up  beautiful- 
ly as  she  talked.  She  smiled  often,  displaying  white 
and  even  teeth.  She  seemed  to  possess  that  gift  so 
important  but  so  rare,  of  seeing  almost  intuitively  what 
was  the  character  of  the  person  whom  she  addressed, 
10 


218  NOW-A-DAYS. 

and  of  adapting  herself  at  once  to  her  companion,  talk- 
ing of  what  most  interested  her  listener. 

"I  wonder  how  she  ever  came  to  be  an  old  maid," 
thought  Esther — for  an  old  maid  she  certainly  was. 
Emily  had  assured  her  again  and  again  that  Aunt 
Mary  was  forty  one  or  two,  and,  though  she  had  many 
offers,  seemed  to  have  resolved  on  a  life  of  single  bles- 
sedness. Xed  now  entered  the  room,  bearing  in  his 
hands  a  huge  apple  pie  which  he  said  he  had  found 
in  a  foraging  expedition  into  the  pantry.  He  was  close- 
ly followed  by  Emily  with  plates  and  knives,  and, 
though  Mr.  Sidney  declared  that  it  was  a  most  un- 
healthy practice  to  eat  just  before  going  to  bed,  he 
was  very  easily  persuaded  to  take  a  piece.  Mrs.  Sid- 
ney roused  herself  from  her  half  dozing  state  and  did 
the.  same.  Esther  received  her  portion  from  the 
hands  of  Edward  and,  as  he  seated  himself  opposite  her, 
she  had  a  fine  opportunity  to  study  his  countenance, 
a  favorite  employment  of  hers.  He  was  a  young  man 
of  about  twenty-five  years  of  age.  "  A  fine,  frank 
face,"  thought  Esther,  "  though  not  handsome."  His 
brown  complexion,  so  different  from  his  mother's  and 
Emily's,  she  attributed  to  his  sea  voyages,  for  he  was 
a  sea  captain.  This  she  already  knew,  for,  thanks  to 
Emily's  communications,  none  of  the  family  seemed 
strangers  to  her.  See  read,  she  thought,  in  the  lines 
of  his  mouth  when  at  rest,  an  inflexible  will,  but  this 
almost  sternness  vanished  at  once  when  he  smiled.  He 
was  the  idol  of  his  sister,  and  his  mother's  eyes  fol- 
lowed him  with  proud  affection  in  all  his  wild  vaga- 
ries, and  they  were  many.  She  even  suffered  his 


DOWN     EAST    AGAIN.  219 

dog  to  lick  her  face  without  expostulation,  and  her 
cold  smile  became  a  warm  and  ardent  one  as  he  seat- 
ed himself  by  her  side,  and  taking  her  thin  hand, 
pressed  it  fondly  between  his  rough  palms.  She  re- 
ceived all  Emily's  attentions  quietly,  and.suffered  her 
caresses  passively,  but  the  slightest  token  of  Edward's 
love  for  her  called  such  a  light  to  her  wasted  features 
as  really  made  them  beautiful,  and  then,  and  then  only, 
could  Esther  trace  any  marks  of  the  beauty  which 
she  was  said  to  have  possessed  in  her  youthful  days. 

"  Emily,  bring  me  the  Bible,"  said  Mr.  Sidney,  af- 
ter a  pause. 

His  daughter  at  once  took  from  the  table  the  large 
family  Bible,  and  taking  his  spectacles  from  his 
pocket,  wiping  them,  and  giving  a  preparatory  ahem, 
Deacon  Sidney,  as  he  was  usually  called,  commenced 
reading  aloud,  one  of  the  Psalms  ;  but  his  eyes  trou- 
bled him,  and  he  requested  Mary  to  read  for  him. 
She  immediately  complied,  and  as  her  rich  sweet 
voice  broke  the  silence,  Esther  could  not  but  be  struck 
with  the  contrast  between  the  reading  of  the  brother 
and  sister.  Mr.  Sidney  read  in  a  cold,  hard  voice  the 
words,  which,  imbued  with  the  enthusiasm  of  Mary's 
nature,  breathed  of  faith  and  love,  and  familiar  as 
were  the  words  to  Esther,  they  seemed  almost  new  to 
her,  coming,  as  it  were,  fresh  from  the  reader's  heart. 

She  ceased,  and  Mr.  Sidney  knelt  down  ;  at  once 
all  present  did  the  same,  and  the  voice  of  the  Deacon 
was  lifted  in  prayer.  He  prayed  long  and  fer- 
vently for  the  welfare  of  church  and  state,  for  the 
upbuilding  of  Zion,  for  heathen  lands,  for  the  poor 


220  NOW-A-DAYS. 

and  oppressed,  but  not  for  the  family,  except  in  gen- 
eral terms.  Esther  felt  that  there  was  a  lack,  she 
hardly  knew  of  what,  and  she  reproached  herself  for 
the  feeling  which  she  could  not  prevent. 

At  the  close  of  the  prayer  each  bade  good  night, 
and  taking  lamps,  sought  their  chambers.  Esther  and 
Emily  were  to  share  the  same  room  ;  they  had  hardly 
thrown  themselves  upon  the  bed,  when  Aunt  Mary 
entered. 

She  approached  the  bed-side  and  carefully  tucked 
the  covering  around  them,  then  laid  her  hand  caress- 
ingly upon  the  brow  of  each,  saying  as  she  bade  them 
good-night,  "  God  bless  and  keep  you,  my  children." 

The  words  were  simple,  but  the  tone,  deep  and 
heartfelt,  made  them  very  impressive,  and  as  she  left 
the  chamber  Esther  felt  that  a  holy  presence  departed 
with  her. 

"  How  do  you  like  Aunt  Mary  ?"  asked  Emily  as 
the  door  closed^after  her. 

"  She  is  a  superior  being,"  returned  Esther,  "  I 
could  love  her  very  dearly,  but  it  surprises  me  that 
she  should  be  an  old  maid." 

"  It  always  did  me,  till  a  short  time  since  grandma 
told  me  her  story.  She  was  engaged  to  a  very  fine 
man,  a  sea  captain,  and  they  were  to  be  married  on 
his  return  from  a  voyage.  All  things  were  in  readi- 
ness for  their  marriage,  and  he  was  expected  in  a 
week  or  two,  when  there  was  a  terrible  gale  ;  his  ship 
was  wrecked,  and  all  but  one  man  lost.  This  sailor 
was  taken  off  the  vessel,  and  told  of  the  sad  fate  of 
the  rest,  both  captain  and  crew. 


DOWN   EAST   AGAIN.  221 

"  It  nearly  killed  Aunt  Mary,  grandma  said.  She 
used  to  be  very  merry  and  wild,  but  this  sobered  her 
at  once.  She  is  never  lively  now,  though  not  very 
melancholy..  For  all  it  was  so  long  ago,  she  can  never 
hear  any  thing  about  a  shipwreck  without  leaving 
the  room.  None  of  the  family  ever  name  such  a 
thing  to  her;  but  once,  when  I  was  quif.e  small,  I  re- 
member I  read  from  a  paper  a  tale  of  a  vessel  lost  at 
sea.  Aunt  Mary  was  alone  in  the  room  with  me  ; 
she  started  up,  and  pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart,  ex- 
claiming, "  Oh,  God !"  then  sunk  back  in  her  chair. 
She  was  deathly  pale,  and  I  was  frightened  enough. 
I  was  going  to  run  for  assistance,  but  she  bade  me  re- 
main, and  said  she  should  be  well  in  a  moment.  This 
was  the  only  time  I  ever  knew  her  to  betray  any 
emotion  ;  but  on  the  anniversary  of  that  fatal  day, 
she  goes  to  her  room  and  sees  no  one  on  any  occasion. 
She  has  had  many  offers  of  marriage,  but  never  lis- 
tens to  any  of  them.  I  don't  know  what  we  should 
do,  if  she  were  to  marry.  Grandma  couldn't  live 
without  her,  and  she  is  always  doing  good.  She  visits 
the  sick  a  great  deal,  and  if  any  one  is  in  trouble,  she 
goes  to  them,  and  knows  just  what  to  say  to  them  to 
comfort  them." 

"Surely,"  thought  Esther,  as  she  heard  this  story, 
"  all  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
God." 

Emily  now  began  to  tell  Esther  that  Virginia  and 
Maria  would  be  in  Belfast  in  the  course  of  a  day  or 
two,  and  after  talking  of  her  plans  for  enjoyment, 
the  two  friends  fell  asleep,  from  which  Esther  did 


222  NOW  A-DAYS. 

not  awake  till  the  clear  voice  of  Aunt  Mary,  as  she 
stood  by  their  bedside,  awoke  both  of  the  sleepers. 

"  We  must  make  haste,"  said  Emily,  "  for  father 
never  likes  to  have  any  one  absent  or  late  at  prayers." 
And  dressing  in  haste,  they  reached  the  sitting  room 
just  as  Deacon  Sidney  had  rung  the  bell,  and,  Bible  in 
hand,  had  opened  its  sacred  pages. 

Breakfast  followed,  at  which  Mrs.  Sidney  the 
younger  made  her  appearance  for  the  first  time. 
Grandmother  had  been  up  a  long  time,  and  as  her 
daughter-in-law  spoke  of  a  bad  headache,  and  sleep- 
less night,  she  cast  a  glance  of  incredulity  at  her, 
simply  saying,  "  Folks  hain't  nigh  so  strong  now-a- 
days,  as  they  used  to  be  when  I  was  a  gal." 

Breakfast  over,  Emily  and  Esther  entered  the  sit- 
ting room.  It  was  already  in  perfect  order,  for  Aunt 
Mary's  hand  had  been  there.  Mrs.  Sidney  threw  her- 
self languidly  upon  the  sofa,  replying  in  as  few  words 
as  possible  to  Emily's  inquiries  about  her  health. 

Aunt  Mary  had  been  for  some  time  in  her  mother's 
room,  she  now  appeared,  neatly  dressed,  and  seating 
herself  at  a  low  table,  commenced  sewing.  She  had 
hardly  got  her  work  about  her,  when  a  large-framed, 
coarse  looking  woman  entered.  She  had  a  piercing 
black  eye,  and  her  hair  was  cut  short,  falling  over 
her  forehead.  Her  dress  was  of  calico,  and  rather 
short,  a  large  cape  or  vandyke,  as  it  was  usually 
called,  completed  her  costume. 

She  bore  in  her  hands  a  large  basket  of  stockings, 
which  she  gave  to  Miss  Mary,  telling  her  that  there 
was  "a  hull  heap  on  um  to  mend  this  week.  What 


DOWN    EAST    AGAIN.  223 

be  we  goin'  to  hev  for  dinner?"  continued  Yiolet 
Maxwell,  for  this  was  the  name  of  the  new  comer, 
the  maid  of  all  work  in  Mrs.  Sidney's  family. 

"  I  will  come  out  and  see  to  it,"  was  Miss  Mary's 
reply,  and  Violet  vanished. 

"  I  presume  Virginia  and  Maria  will  be  here  to- 
day," said  Emily,  "  and  then  we  shall  have  a  grand 
time.  It  will  seem  like  Auld  Lang  Syne  again.  Come, 
Esther,"  she  continued,  "  let's  try  some  of  our  old 
duetts." 

"But  your  mother,"  said  Esther  in  a  low  voice, 
"will  not  the  music  make  her  head  ache?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Emily,  "  she  always  has  an  ill 
turn  in  the  morning,  but  she  gets  over  it  and  sews  or 
reads  in  a  little  while  after  breakfast." 

In  fact,  Mrs.  Sidney  now  drew  her  work-table  to 
her  side,  unfolded  nearly  every  piece  of  work  with 
which  it  was  covered,  looked  first  at  a  bosom  which 
was  to  be  stitched,  then  laid  it  aside ;  taking  up  a 
black  silk  apron,  she  subjected  it  to  the  same  ordeal ; 
several  unhemmed  pocket  handkerchiefs  she  added 
to  the  pile  of  rejected  articles,  and  at  last  taking  some 
knitting  work  in  her  hand,  she  left  the  room. 

"She has  gone  to  grandmother's  room,"  said  Emily, 
and  opening  the  piano  they  commenced  playing. 

Hours  flew  like  moments  while  they  were  thus  en- 
gaged, for  both  were  very  fond  of  music  ;  but  at  last 
the  clock  struck  twelve.  Emily  started,  declaring  that 
she  had  no  idea  that  it  was  so  late.  "  We  must  go 
and  get  ready  for  dinner,''  she  said,  "  for  we  dine  at 
half  past  twelve."' 


224  NOW-A-DAY8. 

Aunt  Mary  had  been  sitting  quietly  in  the  room 
for  some  time,  and  Esther  noticed  that  the  pile  of 
work  which  Mrs.  Sidney  had  left  was  considerably 
diminished.  The  pocket  handkerchiefs  were  hemmed, 
and  the  silk  apron  was  in  Aunt  Mary's  busy  hands, 
rapidly  approaching  completion. 

"  I  have  exchanged  work  with  Charlotte,"  she  said 
briefly,  as  she  noticed  the  direction  of  Esther's  glance. 
"  She  is  entertaining  mother,  while  I  sew  a  little  for 
her." 

Ned  now  entered  and  proposed  a  sleigh-ride  in  the 
afternoon,  as  it  was  too  pleasant  to  stay  in  doors,  he 
said. 

Dinner  over,  the  gay  party  set  out;  they  were 
joined  by  Aunt  Mary,  who  had  a  large  basket  in  her 
hand,  and  wished  to  be  set  down  at  a  small  cottage 
where  one  of  her  patients  resided,  Julia  Eustace,  a 
consumptive,  and  one  of  the  loveliest  beings,  Miss 
Sidney  said,  that  she  ever  saw. 

"  One  of  that  blessed  woman's  many  protegees," 
said  Ned,  when  he  had  lifted  his  aunt  almost  rever- 
entially from  the  sleigh,  and  his  eyes  followed  her 
with  such  loving  glances,  as  would  have  made  glad 
her  heart. 

"  If  Aunt  Mary  isn't  a  saint  on  earth,  then  there 
never  was  one!"  he  exclaimed  enthusiastically;  ';  I 
only  wish  there  were  more  like  her."  Then  dashing 
off  into  other  subjects,  Ned  appeared  in  the  highest 
spirits,  and  his  lively  sallies  elicited  many  a  shout  of 
laughter  from  his  companions. 

"  We  must  begin  to  think  of  getting  home  !"  sud- 


DoWX    i.AST    AGAIN.  225 

denly  exclaimed  Emily,  "for  Virginia  and  Maria  may 
have  already  come.  Do  turn  round  and  drive  home 
fast !" 

Ked  did  as  requested,  and  soon  had  landed  his  fail- 
cargo,  as  he  called  it,  safely  in  port. 

They  had  arrived  just  in  time,  for  hardly  had  they 
got  warmed,  when  the  door  bell  rang,  and  the  ex- 
pected guests  alighted  from  a  heavily-loaded  stage 
coach. 

They  were  cordially  welcomed  and  quickly  freed 
from  their  heavy  cloaks. 

Virginia  declined  all  assistance,  and  soon  bereft  of 
bonnet,  furs,  &c.,  stood  before  them.  Her  figure  was 
slight  but  graceful ;  her  hands,  which  she  seemed  to 
know  how  to  display  to  advantage,  were  white,  small, 
and  beautifully  moulded.  Her  dress,  a  dark  plaid, 
fitted  her  nicely  and  showed  her  form  to  advantage, 
but  Esther  and  Emily  looked  in  vain  for  that  beauty 
of  which  they  had  heard.  Her  hair  was  indeed  beau- 
tiful, it  fell  in  a  profusion  of  curls  negligently  but 
gracefully  over  her  face,  but  her  eyes  were  far  from 
handsome,  her  features  not  very  regular,  and  her  hair 
and  teeth  were  all  that  redeemed  her  from  positive, 
plainness. 

"  Well,  girls,"  said  she,  laughing,  "  how  you  stare 
at  me !  You  were  expecting  a  beauty  and  you  are 
disappointed.  The  truth  is,  I  am  only  a  belle.  For 
that  character  very  little  beauty  is  required.  The 
fact  is,  I  was  as  much  astonished  as  you  are,  when  I 
was  first  called  handsome.  I  came  from  school  with 
a  pretty  correct  estimate  of  my  personal  attractions,  a 
10* 


226  NOW-A-DAYS. 

good  figure,  good  hair  and  teeth,  and  passable  com- 
plexion. I  went  into  society  and  saw  so  many  ordi- 
nary-looking women  called  handsome,  that  I  took 
courage.  I  left  the  numerous  body  of  wall-flowers, 
just  made  the  best  posible  use  of  what  fine  gifts  na- 
ture had  bestowed  upon  me,  and  the  consequence  is, 
that  I  am  called  the  admired  Miss  Virginia  Clifton." 

Maria  stood  silently  by,  while  Virginia  went  on  in 
a  half -joking  way  to  tell  of  her  admirers.  "First  and 
foremost,  there's  the  staid,  middle-aged  Mr.  Norton, 
quite  wealthy,  which  is  about  his  only  attraction,  for 
he  is  abominably  dull  and  abominably  homely  ;  then 
I  can  boast  of  a  poet  lover,  who  has  immortalized  my 
name  in  a  series  of  acrostics,  one  of  which  I  found 
wound  tastefully  round  a  bouquet.  I  really  wish  I 
could  remember  it;  though  the  effect  was  almost 
overpowering  on  me  yet  I  did  not  commit  it  to 
memory.  Then  there  are  some  half  dozen  young 
men  who  fall  in  love  with  every  new  face,  who  for 
the  present  bow  before  my  shrine.  So  you  see,  girls," 
she  concluded,  "  I  have  had  considerable  experience 
already  in  affairs  of  the  heart.  I  have,  however, 
come  out  from  the  ordeal  unscathed.  I  have  con- 
quered all  the  subjects  in  Portland,  and  have  come 
here  to  do  similar  execution." 

"  You  will  find  a  poor  field  for  your  brilliant 
achievements,  Jennie,  I  fear,"  said  Emily ;  then  turn- 
ing to  Maria,  she  asked  her  "  what  she  had  done 
worthy  of  note  since  she  left  school." 

"  Nothing,"  was  her  reply,  "  but  to  grow  thin,"  in- 


•AST    AGAIN'.  227 

terrupted  Virginia,  "  and  to  grow  silent ;  why  she 
has  hardly  spoken  a  word  the  whole  way." 

"  You  have  amply  made  up  for  my  deficiencies," 
said  Maria. 

"  You  do  not  look  well,  Maria,"  said  Esther,  ten- 
derly, as  she  sat  by  her  friend's  side  and  gazed  at  her 
pale  face.  She  was  dressed  in  deep  mourning  for  her 
mother,  who  had  died  nearly  a  year  since.  Her  fea- 
tures were  regular  and  quite  handsome.  Her  deep 
blue  eyes  had  an  appealing  look  which  went  to  the 
heart,  but  hers  was  not  the  beauty  which  attracts  at 
once.  She  was  dressed  without  any  pretensions  to 
display ;  her  long  brown  hair  was  smoothly  folded 
around  her  head,  and  she  wore  very  few  ornaments. 
In  this  respect,  as  in  most  others,  she  formed  a  perfect 
contrast  to  Virginia,  whose  fingers  were  loaded  with 
jewels,  and  her  open  sleeve  displayed  one  or  two 
handsome  bracelets  upon  her  rounded  arm ;  in  fact, 
she  had  some  article  of  jewelry  wherever  she  could 
wear  it. 

Involuntarily  as  Esther  glanced  at  her  lively  com- 
panion, who  was  chatting  volubly  with  Mrs.  Sidney, 
who  had  just  entered,  she  felt  repelled,  and  as  strongly 
attracted  to  Maria. 

Mrs.  Sidney  really  seemed  to  partake  her  young 
friend's  animation ;  she  smiled  at  Jennie's  amusing 
description  of  their  travelling  companions,  and  of  the 
incidents  they  had  met  with  on  their  way. 

Emily,  who  listened,  appeared  delighted  to  see  the 
interest  which  her  mother  manifested,  it  was  so  rarely 
that  she  was  aroused  from  her  usual  Hstlessness. 


2Z»  NOW-A-DAY8. 

Xed,  who  soon  came  in  and  was  introduced,  was 
charmed  with  the  ease  and  frankness  with  which 
Jennie  greeted  him,  and  was  soon  in  a  gay  conversa- 
tion with  her. 

Deacon  Sidney  she  approached  with  the  same  self- 
possession.  She  did  not  appear  to  stand  in  awe  of  him 
in  the  least,  and  this  from  its  very  novelty  seemed  to 
delight  him.  Instinctively,  she  found  out  what  most 
interested  him,  and  talked  with  him  seriously  at  first, 
then  gaily  and  familiarly. 

Before  nine  o'clock  she  had  heen  all  over  the  house, 
and  had  won  grandma's  heart  by  her  sprightliness, 
her  love  for  pussy,  and  by  holding  a  skein  of  yarn 
for  her.  She  had  visited  the  kitchen,  and  her  praise 
of  Violet's  favorite  gingerbread,  of  which  she  had 
begged  a  piece,  had  won  from  her  the  remark  that, 
"  she  was  a  mighty  nice  gal,  none  of  your  stuck-up 
city  gals,  but  one  that  knowed  what's  what." 

Esther  could  not  but  see  that  Virginia  was  a  gene- 
ral favorite.  She  waited  with  some  impatience  for 
Aunt  Mary's  return,  to  see  if  she  too  would  share  the 
universal  attraction. 

On  Aunt  Mary's  entrance  Virginia  looked  at  her 
with  that  penetrating  glance  which  she  bestowed  on 
all  who  came  in  her  way  ;  she  encountered  an  equally 
searching  one  from  Aunt  Mary,  who  addressed  her 
kindly,  and  then  turned  to  Maria  with  one  of  her 
most  winning  smiles  as  she  spoke  of  her  mother,  one 
of  her  dearest  friends,  she  said,  in  days  long  gone  by, 
and  to  whom  Maria  bore  a  striking  resemblance.  "  I 
long  to  take  you  into  my  heart,"  she  continued  in  a 


DOWN   EAST   AGAIN. 


low  voice,  "  for  I  feel  sure  you  must  resemble  her  as 
much  in  character  as  in  person." 

Tears  filled  Maria's  eyes  as  she  returned  the  warm 
pressure  of  the  hand  which  Miss  Sidney  held. 

Virginia  had  drawn  near,  and  taking  Aunt  Mary's 
other  hand  pressed  it  warmly  to  her  lips.  The  action 
was  simple  but  unexpected.  Miss  Sidney  looked  at 
her  with  some  surprise. 

"  Love  me  a  little  too,  if  you  can,"  whispered  Jen- 
nie, pressing  her  cheek  softly  against  the  hand  she 
still  held. 

Touched  by  the  childlike  appeal,  Miss  Sidney  re- 
plied in  a  few  tender  words.  She  had  won  her  way 
to  Aunt  Mary's  heart. 

"  How  much  Virginia  has  improved  !"  said  Emily, 
when  she  and  Esther  were  alone  in  their  chamber. 
"How  simple,  natural,  and  loving  she  has  grown?" 

"  She  is  indeed  fascinating,"  replied  Esther,  rather 
coldly,  but  she  reproached  herself  for  her  coldness  ; 
again  and  again  she  asked  herself,  if  she  was  jealous 
of  Jennie's  charms.  "I  am  unjust  to  her,"  she 
thought.  "  I  do  not  understand  her,  and  have  mis- 
judged her."  So  she  joined  in  praise  of  Jennie's 
winning  manners,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 

The  next  evening,  Mr.  Templeton,  who  had  been 
out  of  town  on  business  for  a  few  days,  returned  and 
called  at  Deacon  Sidney's.  He  was  very  pleasant 
and  cordial  in  his  manners  towards  Emily  and  Esther, 
with  whom  he  talked  principally,  notwithstanding 
Virginia's  efforts  to  withdraw  him. 

At  length  she  approached  the  piano  and  sung  a 


230  NOW-A-BAYS. 

ballad  ;  she  had  a  sweet  voice,  and  played  with  great 
taste  and  feeling.  Edward  bent  over  her  admiringly, 
and  Mr.  Templeton  arose  and  joined  the  group.  Jen- 
nie had  been  successful,  but  she  appeared  perfectly 
unconscious  of  his  approach,  except  a  flash  of  the  eye, 
which  Esther  imagined  she  read  aright,  as  one  of  tri- 
umph. She  started  very  prettily  and  naturally  as  Mr. 
Templeton  requested  another  song,  but  complied  with 
much  sweetness  ;  then  rising,  asked  Emily  or  Esther 
to  play. 

Esther  seated  herself  at  the  piano,  and  played  a 
lively  waltz.  Jennie  at  once  started  off  in  a  dance 
alone,  much  to  Deacon  Sidney's  horror,  for  dancing, 
of  all  sinful  pleasures,  except  playing  cards,  he  held 
in  utter  abhorrence. 

"  Miss  Clifton,"  he  commenced  almost  sternly,  as 
Virginia  sat  down  panting  at  his  side. 

"  Call  me  Virginia,  please,"  interrupted  she,  look- 
ing up  into  his  face,  with  a  frank  smile,  which  com- 
pletely disarmed  the  rebuke  he  had  intended  to  give 
her,  of  its  severity. 

He  smiled—"  Well,  Virginia,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry 
to  see  that  you  dance." 

"  "Why  ?"  asked  she,  in  apparently  innocent  won- 
der. "  I  do  so  love  it !"  she  continued,  without  wait- 
ing for  a  reply,  "  I  could  dance  all  night !" 

"  There  are  much  more  profitable  ways  of  spending 
one's  nights,"  remarked  Mr.  Sidney,  gravely. 

"  But  none  more  pleasant,"  interrupted  Virginia  ; 
"but  sometime  you  shall  tell  me  all  your  objections," 
she  continued  gaily  :  "  To-night  I  challenge  you  to  a 


DOWN   EAST   AGAIN.  231 

game  of  checkers,"  and  taking  a  board  from  a  table, 
she  commenced  setting  the  men. 

This  was  a  favorite  recreation  of  Deacon  Sidney's, 
and  smilingly  he  took  his  place  opposite  Jennie  and 
commenced  playing. 

Emily  looked  on  in  astonishment,  wondering  to  see 
Virginia  so  familiar  with  one,  whom  though  her  fa- 
ther, she  had  always  regarded  with  mingled  awe  and 
reverence. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    SEWING    CIRCLE. 

"  WELL,  girls,  you  are  all  invited  to  attend  the  First 
Congregational  Sewing  Circle,  at  Dr.  Manning's,  this 
afternoon.  Would  you  like  to  go  ?"  said  Emily  one 
morning,  entering  the  parlor  where  her  guests  were 
seated. 

The  announcement  was  received  very  differently 
by  the  persons  addressed.  "  I  shall  like  it,  of  all 
things !"  exclaimed  Virginia,  who  was  arranging  her 
curls  before  a  mirror.  Esther  replied  that  it  was  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  her,  and  Maria,  who  had 
thrown  herself  at  full  length  upon  the  sofa,  holding  a 
book  which  she  was  professedly  reading,  but  which, 
for  the  most  part,  hung  negligently  between  her  fin- 
gers, yawned,  and  said,  "  she  guessed  she  would  stay 
at  home." 

"  Poh,  Maria !"  replied  Virginia^ "  you  shan't  do  any 
such  thing.  We  won't  excuse  you." 

"  You  had  all  better  go,"  said  Aunt  Mary,  who  was 
sewing,  "  as  you  are  particularly  invited,  jit  would  be 
quite  a  disappointment  to  Mrs.  Manning,  if  you  did 
not  attend." 

"  Yery  well,  then,"  replied  Maria,  and  went  on  read- 
ing. 


THK   SEWING   CIRCLE.  233 

At  two  o'clock  the  party  started  for  Mrs.  Man- 
ning's. The  walk  was  rather  a  long  one  but  very  plea- 
sant. The  Doctor's  house  stood  upon  a  hill  which 
commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  bay ;  this  was  now 
open,  though  it  was  winter,  as  it  was  very  rarely  fro- 
zen over.  The  dwelling  was  surrounded  by  trees, 
which,  covered  with  icicles,  glittered  and  sparkled  in 
the  sun. 

"  It  must  be  a  delightful  residence  in  the  summer  !" 
said  Esther. 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  replied  Emily,  "  and  this  hill  also 
has  its  charms  in  winter;  it  is  a  fine  place  for  sliding, 
as  you  see.  Take  care,  girls,"  she  cried  out,  as  a 
whole  troop  of  sleds,  whose  owners  cried  "  Lulla !"  as 
an  admonition  to  people  to  get  out  of  the  way,  came 
swiftly  down  the  hill.  "  It  would  have  been  wiser  in 
us  to  have  remained  on  the  side-walk.  But  here  we 
are  at  last,"  said  Emily. 

A  girl  met  them  at  the  door,  directing  them  to  the 
front  chamber,  where,  already,  laid  piles  of  clothing, 
shawls  and  bonnets  heaped  up  in  confusion. 

"  How  do  I  look  ?"  asked  Virginia,  when  she  had 
given  the  final  brush  to  her  hair,  had  shaken  out  the 
flounces  of  her  black  silk,  and  arranged  her  under- 
handkerchief  to  her  satisfaction. 

"  Remarkably  well,"  replied  Maria. 

Emily  coolly  said,  "  she  would  do  nicely,  as  nearly 
all  of  the  people  whom  she  would  see  were  old  ladies, 
and  rather  blind." 

"  I  think  that  I  do  look  nicely,"  repeated  Virginia, 
taking  no  notice  of  Emily's  remark,  and  glancing  at 


234:  NOW-A-PAY3. 

herself  in  the  mirror.  And  she  spoke  truly.  The 
walk  had  given  color  to  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes,  not 
usually  very  expressive,  were  now  quite  animated. 

"  Come,  Em,"  she  exclaimed,  "  lead  the  way  to  the 
lower  Regions !"  There  was  breathless  silence  as  they 
entered  the  large  parlor,  for  all  present  were  anxious 
to  see  Emily  Sidney's  company. 

The  lady  of  the  house  was  not  present ;  and  Emily, 
after  introducing  her  friends  to  a  few  who  were  near 
her,  seated  herself  and  her  companions  on  a  vacant 
sofa. 

The  president  of  the  society,  a  tall  thin  woman, 
wearing  spectacles,  sat  near  a  square  table,  where 
piles  of  work  were  spread  out ;  and,  on  Emily's  appli- 
cation to  her  for  work,  busied  herself  in  looking  it 
over,  to  see  if  she  could  find  any  suitable. 

There  were  about  twenty  already  assembled,  most 
of  them  middle  aged  and  quite  old  ladies.  The  ma- 
trons were  gathered  in  little  groups,  knitting  with 
wonderful  rapidity,  rattling  their  needles  as  if  they 
were  accomplishing  wonders,  and  talking  equally  as 
fast ;  for  they  had  resumed  the  conversation,  which 
had  been  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Emily  and 
her  friends.  They  were  discussing,  with  great  ear- 
nestness, the  merits  of  their  last  pastor,  who  had  just 
left  them,  as  well  as  those  of  his  successor,  when  the 
quiet  entrance  of  a  slight,  pale,  and  blue-eyed  woman, 
who  had  a  little  girl,  of  some  two  years  of  age,  by  the 
hand,  suddenly  checked  the  tide  of  discourse. 

She  approached  the  group  of  old  ladies,  who  had 
that  painfully  conscious  air  that  usually  marks  the 


THE   SEWING   CIRCLE.  235 

interruption  of  a  choice  bit  of  gossip,  by  the  sudden 
entrance  of  the  very  person  who  has  been  the  subject 
of  remark,  but  she  did  not  appear  to  notice  this.  She 
extended  her  hand  cordially  to  each  in  turn,  asking 
one  of  her  rheumatism,  another  of  the  health  owlome 
member  of  the  family  who  had  been  sick,  and  passing 
none  without  some  pleasant  remark. 

"Wall,  I'm  real  glad  to  see  ye,  Miss  Hammond," 
said  more  than  one.  "  I  was  afeard  you  wouldn't 
walk  so  fur." 

"  Mrs.  Manning  was  so  kind  as  to  send  forme,"  re- 
plied the  new  minister's  wife,  for  it  was  she ;  "  her 
sleigh  met  me,  when  I  had  walked  about  half  way  ;" 
and  passing  on,  she  addressed  all  present  in  her  sweet 
and  simple  manner. 

Emily  sprang  forward  to  meet  her,  and,  after  intro- 
ducing her  friends,  entered  into  an  animated  conver- 
sation with  her. 

"  "What  did  you  say  her  name  was  ?"  asked  Esther, 
when  Mrs.  Hammond  rose  to  get  some  work. 

"  Mrs.  Arthur  Hammond,"  replied  Emily,  "  our 
new  minister's  wife.  Isn't  she  sweet?  They  have 
only  been  settled  here  about  two  months.  A  part  of 
the  people  were  much  opposed  to  her  husband's  settle- 
ment here,  and  were  determined  not  to  like  either  of 
them  ;  but  she  has  won  everybody's  heart  since  she 
came.  Mr.  Hammond  will  be  here  this  afternoon ; 
he  always  comes  just  before  tea." 

Mrs.  Manning  now  entered,  bearing  a  babe  in  her 
arms,  and  sinking  into  the  first  chair  that  came  in  her 
way.  She  was  rather  an  ordinary  looking  person,  and 


236  NOW-A-DAYS. 

evidently  mucn  embarrassed.  She  blushed  deeply, 
when  she  was  undergoing  the  ordeal  of  introduction 
to  the  strangers ;  and,  merely  remarking  that  "  it  was 
a  fine  day,"  returned  to  her  seat  in  the  corner  again. 

Yj^inia,  tired  of  sewing,  now  threw  down  her 
work,  ai.d  began  to  play  with  little  Agnes  Hammond, 
and  had  soon  carried  her  to  "  Banbury-Cross"  an  in- 
definite number  of  times,  to  the  young  lady's  great 
amusement.  She  was  in  the  midst  of  the  wonderful 
story  of  "  Jacky  Homer,"  when  the  door  opened,  and 
the  Rev.  Arthur  Hammond  entered. 

Esther  gazed  with  no  little  curiosity  upon  him,  and 
did  not  wonder  that  Margaret  had  loved  him  so  well. 
"  So  that  is  Arthur  Hammond,"  said  she,  to  herself ; 
"  he  is  certainly  a  fine  looking  man." 

He  was  indeed ;  for  though  his  features  were  too 
strongly  marked  to  be  regularly  handsome,  there  was 
a  certain  something  in  his  appearance  that  involun- 
tarily attracted  one's  attention.  His  figure  was  some- 
what above  the  middle  height,  erect  and  vigorous, 
having  none  of  that  worn  and  fragile  look  that  is  too 
apt  to  characterize  the  student.  His  forehead,  which 
was  high  and  white,  was  shaded  by  clustering  masses 
of  silky  brown  hair;  his  eyes  wer-e  deep  and  earnest, 
and  gave  a  spiritual  expression  to  his  face ;  but  there 
was  less  of  that  determine^ook,  expressive  of  an  in- 
domitable will,  than  Estherfcad  expected  to  see,  from 
Margaret's  description  of  his  character.  This  was  her 
thought,  as  she  looked  at  the  upper  part  of  his  face ; 
but  as  her  eye  rested  on  the  lower  part  of  his  counte- 
nance she  altered  her  opinion,  for  she  read  innexi- 


THE    SEWING    CIRCLE.  237 

bility  in  the  lines  of  his  mouth,  and  perceived  the  gen- 
eral effect  of  it  also  in  his  independent  and  self-reliant 
carriage.  It  was  evident  that  he  possessed  talent,  and, 
without  any  disagreable  self-conceit,  it  was  equally 
evident  that  he  was  aware  of  his  attainments,  w 

"  Just  the  one  for  Margaret,"  she  thought,  as  she 
watched  his  movements,  and  admired  the  graceful 
ease  of  his  manners. 

Passing  around  the  room,  with  a  few  words  to  each, 
he  came  at  last  to  Emily,  and  talked  pleasantly  with 
her  companions.  He  glanced  at  Virginia,  who  had 
assumed  a  very  graceful  attitude,  and  still  continued 
her  occupation,  that  of  amusing  Miss  Agnes. 

"  Let  me  present  you  to  a  third  of  my  friends,"  said 
Emily,  who  had  followed  the  direction  of  his  eyes; 
and  soon  Virginia  and  the  minister  were  gayly  con- 
versing together. 

"  I  must  carry  my  work  to  the  President,"  said  Es- 
ther, "  for  I  have  finished  it ;"  and  folding  her  pillow- 
case, she  carried  it  to  the  table.  The  President  and 
Second  Directress  were  examining  some  work  which 
had  just  been  brought  in. 

"  Who  gave  this  work  to  Miss  Billins  to  sew  on  ? 
Did  you,  Miss  Smith?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  Second  Directress ;  "  I  guess  she 
took  it  herself.  I  never  give  her  no  nice  work  to  do. 
I  have  had  too  much  fnss  with  her  for  that." 

"  Wall !  it's  done  awfully,  and  no  mistake,"  said  the 
President.  "  It  must  be  picked  out ;  then  I  spose 
she'll  be  as  mad  as  a  hop ;  but  I  can't  help  it,  it's  got 
to  come  out.  Give  it  to  Mary  Smiley,  she'll  do  it 


238  NOW-A-DAYS. 

well,"  continued  the  good  lady ;  "  and  tell  her  not  to 
let  Miss  Billins  see  it,  if  she  can  help  it." 

The  Second  Directress  did  as  she  was  commanded  ; 
but,  unfortunately,  Mrs.  Billings,  a  sharp-featured, 
brightly ed  woman,  had  seen  the  manoeuvre,  and  an- 
grily began  talking  to  her  next  neighbor.  "  I  guess  I 
can  sew  as  well  as  Miss  Wilcox,"  said  she,  "  or  Mary 
Smiley  either ;  but  she's  got  a  spite  against  me,  and 
has  been  and  picked  out  lots  and  lots  of  my  work.  I 
vow  I  won't  put  up  with  it.  I'll  take  my  name  off 
from  the  Society.  Miss  Wilcox  feels  mighty  nice 
since  she  got  to  be  President ;  I  wonder  who  she  is, 
that  ske  need  to  be  so  grand  and  stuck  up.  Why,  you 
can't  tech  her  with  a  forty  foot  pole  now.  *  Set  a  beg- 
gar on  horseback,'  you  know.  Lord  !  I've  seen  some 
of  her  work ;  her  boys  wears  clothes  patched  so  bad, 
that  I  wouldn't  let  my  young  ones  wear  um  into  the 
woods.  I  should  be  ashamed  to  let  anybody  see  um, 
if  I  was  her.  I'll  agree  to  sew  with  her  any  time." 

She  contented  herself  with  casting  glances  of  defi- 
ance at  the  President,  who  bore  them  with  great  cool- 
ness. 

"There's  Miss  Somers,"  said  Mrs.  Wilcox  to  Miss 
Smith ;  "  she  always  comes  dreadful  late  ;  I  guess  there 
wouldn't  be  much  done,  if  everybody  did  the  same." 

"  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Wilcox,"  said  Mrs.  Somers, 
pleasantly,  coming  up  to  the  table.  The  officers 
greeted  her  with  respect,  and,  taking  the  work  which 
they  gave  her,  she  seated  herself  near  Esther,  and 
saying  that  she  presumed  she  was  addressing  one  of 


THE   SEWING   CIRCLE.  239 

Miss  Sidney's  friends,  she  introduced  herself,  and 
commenced  a  conversation. 

Esther  was  charmed  with  her  new  acquaintance, 
who,  though  somewhat  advanced  in  life,  retained  all 
the  sprightliness  and  vivacity  of  her  youth.  They 
soon  found  that  they  had  a  number  of  mutual  friends ; 
and  Mrs.  Somers  discovered  that  Esther's  father  was 
one  of  her  old,  and,  she  said,  "  most  highly  valued 
acquaintances." 

Tea  was  now  announced  to  be  in  readiness,  by  the 
Doctor,  a  hale,  hearty  looking  man,  and  very  gentle- 
manly in  his  manners. 

"  The  Society  will  please  lay  aside  their  work,  and 
walk  out  to  tea,"  said  the  President,  as  she  followed, 
with  much  dignity,  the  minister  and  his  wife  into  the 
large  dining  room. 

After  a  blessing  had  been  pronounced  by  Mr. 
Hammond,  the  Doctor  invited  Emily  to  assist  in  pass- 
ing round  the  plates.  All  the  company  were  stand- 
ing rigidly  against  the  walls,  except  Mrs.  Hammond, 
who  came  to  Emily's  assistance,  and,  passing  round, 
gave  each  a  plate ;  while  Emily  followed,  bearing  a 
plate  of  buttered  biscuits,  and  Virginia  brought  up 
the  rear,  with  cheese  and  preserved  damsons.  Mrs. 
Manning  was,  in  the  meantime,  pouring  out  tea,  at  a 
side-table,  aided  by  one  or  two  of  her  friends,  so  that 
soon  all  were  supplied. 

The  Doctor,  now  declaring  that  he  never  knew 
where  to  put  his  plate  when  he  stood  up,  as  he  always 
spilt  its  contents,  or  those  of  his  tea-cup,  invited  Mr. 


24:0  NOW-A-DAYS. 

Hammond  to  follow  his  example  and  seat  himself  at 
the  table. 

Mrs.  Somers  and  Esther  still  stood  together,  and  were 
conversing  with  no  lack  of  spirit. 

"  I  have  found  an  old  friend,  or  rather,  the  daugh- 
ter of  an  old  friend  in  Miss  Hastings,"  said  Mrs. 
Somers  as  Emily  approached  them.  "  The  father  I 
knew  long  before  his  residence  in  Bangor,  and  with  his 
first  wife  I  have  spent  many  a  pleasant  hour,  though 
I  never  knew  his  second.  Let  me  see,"  she  continued 
musingly,  "  what  was  the  maiden  name  of  your  step- 
mother ?" 

"  Margaret  "Wilton,"  replied  Esther. 

"  I  saw  her  once  at  a  party,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Somers. 
"  I  remember  her  perfectly ;  she  was  an  uncommonly 
beautiful  woman." 

At  the  name  of  Margaret  Wilton,  Mr.  Hammond 
looked  up,  but  betrayed  no  emotion,  for  Esther  watched 
him  narrowly. 

He  helped  himself  to  another  biscuit  and  praised 
the  bread,  to  Mrs.  Manning's  evident  satisfaction. 

After  supper  was  over,  they  returned  to  the  par- 
lor. Mr.  Hammond  now  approached  Esther  and  re- 
marked that  he  as  well  as  Mrs.  Somers  had  made  a 
discovery,  that  her  step-mother  had  been  an  old  friend 
of  his.  He  spoke  easily,  and,  without  embarrassment, 
asked  where  she  now  was,  and  listened  with  interest 
to  Esther's  account  of  her  second  marriage. 

"  She  is  a  noble  woman,"  he  said  after  a  pause. 
"  When  you  next  write  her,  please  present  my  regards 
to  her.  Alice,"  he  said,  as  his  wife  came  near  and 


THE   SEWING   CIRCLE.  241 

stood  with  her  hand  upon  her  husband's  chair,  "  do 
you  not  remember  meeting  Mrs.  Hastings  once  in  Ban- 
gor  at  a  party  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  wife  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"  she  was  a  very  gay  and  brilliant  person." 

"  This  is  her  step-daughter,"  continued  Mr.  Ham- 
mond. 

"  Indeed,"  said  his  wife,  and,  after  praising  Mrs 
Hastings'  beauty,  in  which  Esther  joined  warmly, 
though  declaring  that  it  was  the  least  of  her  charms, 
the  conversation  turned  on  different  subjects,  and  Es- 
ther sat  thinking  how  strangely  people  altered ! 

She  could  not  see  that  the  mention  of  one  he  had  so 
fondly  loved  had  produced  the  least  effect  on  Arthur 
Hammond.  Margaret  too  had  ceased  to  love  him. 
"  "Well,"  thought  she,  "  all  this  talk  rfbout  undying 
love  must  be  nonsense."  But  the  vision  of  Aunt 
Mary's  lost  but  cherished  affection  rose  before  her,  and 
she  revoked  her  hasty  decision. 

The  old  ladies  now  made  preparations  for  departure  ; 
the  President  and  directors  rolled  up  the  work,  and 
one  by  one  they  retired ;  but  young  people  now  be- 
gan to  take  their  places.  Several  young  girls,  neatly 
and  prettily  dressed,  now  came  in,  closely  followed  by 
a  number  of  young  gentlemen.  Among  these  was 
the  only  son  of  Mrs.  Somers,  Frederick,  a  fine  looking 
fellow,  now  at  home  for  a  short  time  1'rom  Cambridge, 
where  he  had  been  attending  the  law  school.  Ned 
Sidney  accompanied  him  and  introduced  him  to  the 
guests  of  his  sister. 

Maria  seemed  as  listless  as  ever ;  she  was  sitting  in 
11 


242  NOW-A-DAY8. 

a  circle  of  young  ladies,  one  or  two  of  whom  were 
making  vain  attempts  to  engage  her  in  conversation. 
They  at  last,  however,  relinquished  the  effort,  and 
remarked  in  a  low  tone  as  they  passed  Esther,  "  she  is 
certainly  one  of  the  most  insipid  girls  that  I  ever  saw. 
All  she  has  said  in  reply  to  my  strenuous  exertions  to 
make  her  talk  is,  '  yes,'  *  no,'  '  do  you  think  so  ?'  and 
the  like." 

Esther  glanced  at  her  friend,  and  could  not  avoid 
thinking  that  her  appearance  justified  the  remark  ;  but 
it  was  so  different  from  the  Maria  of  old  times,  that 
she  hastened  to  ask  her  if  she  was  sick. 

The  company,  meanwhile,  had  begun  to  get  over  a 
little  <of  the  stiffness  usually  attendant  on  such  occa- 
sions. The  gentlemen  left  the  sides  of  the  room,  where 
they  had  all  been  sitting  together  talking,  and  appar- 
ently much  interested  in  each  other,  yet  casting  long- 
ing glances  towards  their  fair  friends,  who  appeared 
equally  oblivious  of  the  male  portion  of  the  party. 

They  seemed  at  once  now  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
the  evening,  and  games,  for  it  would  have  shocked  the 
orthodox  notions  of  the  good  people  of  Mr.  Ham- 
mond's society  if  dancing  had  been  introduced,  fol- 
lowed.thick  and  fast. 

Kitchen  Furniture  was  called  for,  and,  assuming  the 
names  of  various  articles,  tongs,  broom  boots,  &c., 
were  obliged  to  rise  up,  amid  laughter  and  merry  jc<ts. 

Grocery  Store  next  came,  and  Pork  was  seen  in  the 
shape  of  some  fair  girl,  exchanging  places  with  Cab- 
bage, in  the  person  of  Ned  Sidney,  who  seemed  rather 
unwilling  to  give  up  his  seat  by  the  side  of  Virginia. 


THE    SEWING   CIRCLE.  243 

Beans,  as  Mr.  Somers  was  called  for  the  time  being, 
seemed  equally  ambitious  of  a  seat  by  her  side,  and 
many  were  the  jests  of  the  company,  on  the  fondness  of 
these  gentlemen  for  Molasses,  which  was  her  cognomen. 

Jenny  appeared  to  be  in  her  element,  casting  sly 
glances  at  the  faces  of  her  two  admirers,  and  welcom- 
ing each  to  her  side  with  the  same  sweet  smile  and  arch 
words. 

Maria  too,  to  Esther's  great  satisfaction,  seemed  to 
have  roused  herself  from  her  listless  state,  and  anima- 
tion, which  alone  was  wanting  to  render  her  beautiful, 
now  sparkled  in  her  eyes  and  beamed  in  her  smile. 
Admirers  of  her  were  not  wanting,  but  she  seemed  to 
repulse  every  attention  quietly  and  kindly,  but  in  so 
marked  a  manner,  that  she  was  soon  left  to  herself. 

Blindfold  was  now  proposed,  and  Dr.  Manning, 
with  Mrs.  Sorners  and  a  few  of  the  older  people  who 
had  remained,  though  they  had  adjourned  to  another 
room  for  a  quiet  chat,  now  united  with  the  younger 
members  of  the  circle  in  clearing  the  room  for  action, 
as  he  said.  Chairs,  tables,  mirrors  and  sofas  were  hur- 
ried out  into  the  large  entry,  and  Dr.  Manning  was 
first  blinded.  Emily  tied  the  bandage  over  his  eyes 
and,  admonishing  him  to  "  turn  round  three  times  and 
catch  who  you  may,"  darted  from  his  side. 

Now  what  scampering  from  one  side  of  the  room 
to  the  other  followed  !  Then  what  profound  silence 
as  one  was  caught,  while  the  Doctor  vainly  attempted 
to  guess  whom  he  had  taken. 

"  You  all  wear  your  hair  alike,  I  believe,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  guess  it  is  Emily  Sidney." 


244:  NOW-A-DAYS. 

His  guess  proved  correct,  and,  amid  her  declara- 
tions that  she  really  believed  that  he  could  see,  while 
he  laughingly  assured  her,  that  if  so,  it  was  her  own 
fault,  as  she  had  tied  on  the  handkerchief,  she  assumed 
his  place.  Again  the  scampering  ensued,  and  the  fall 
of  one  or  two  was  greeted  with  shouts  of  laughter,  as 
each  declared  that  he  was  unhurt.  Suddenly  the  door 
opened,  and  Mr.  Templeton  entered  just  in  season  to 
be  caught  by  Emily,  who  guessed  him  at  once.  Many 
were  the  pleasant  sallies  which  this  called  forth,  but 
he  declined  being  blindfolded,  as  he  had  just  come  in 
from  the  cold. 

After  a  few  more  had  been  blinded,  the  party  were 
all  pretty  tired,  and  quite  ready  to  partake  of  the  re- 
freshments, apples,  nuts,  and  raisins,  which  were  now 
brought  in.  Apples  were  now  named,  causing  many 
blushes,  until  at  last  it  came  to  Virginia's  turn. 

"  Who  did  you  name  mine  ?"  she  asked  of  the  com- 
pany. 

"  Mr.  Somers,"  replied  one ;  "  Mr.  Sidnev,"  said 
the  rest ;  and  so  it  was  repeated  until  it  came  to  Dr. 
Manning. 

"  If  I  were  not  a  married  man,"  he  said,  smiling, 
"I  should  be  tempted  to  name  it,  myself;  but  as  it  is, 
I  will  follow  the  example  already  set  me,  naming  it 
both  Mr.  Somers  and  Mr.  Sidney,  and  leave  the  selec- 
tion to  you." 

"  How  may  seeds  ?"  cried  all,  as  she  put  the  little 
shining  specks  into  her  white  hand. 

"  Five,  I  declare,"  said  she,  very  demurely,  "  Five, 


THE    SEWING    CIRCLE.  245 

I  cast  away ;"  and  she  glanced  archly  at  the  rivals, 
who  were  close  by  her  side. 

Phillipines  were  now  passed  round,  a  game  in  which 
all  took  part.  Other  games  were  now  proposed,  in 
which  Mr.  Templeton  did  not  join,  for,  unperceived, 
he  had  slipped  out  to  have  a  conversation  with  Mrs. 
Manning,  Mr.  Hammond,  and  his  wife,  who  were  in 
an  adjoining  apartment. 

"  He  never  will  play  these  games,"  said  Emily  to 
Esther,  as  she  noticed  his  absence. 

"  I  declare,  it  is  eleven  o'clock  !"  exclaimed  Emily, 
as  the  tones  of  the  old  Dutch  clock  rang  out  full  and 
clear  ;  "  we  must  go  home." 

Already  shawled  and  hooded,  the  girls  had  bid  Mrs. 
Manning  good  night,  assuring  her  that  they  had  en- 
j  oyed  themselves  finely.  Esther  noticed  that  Virginia 
stood  by  the  side  of  Edward  Sidney,  when  Mr. 
Somers,  not  observing  this,  proposed  accompanying 
her  home. 

"  Unfortunately,"  replied  she,  in  a  very  low  tone, 
"  I  am  already  provided  for." 

He  bowed,  and  sought  Maria,  with  whom  he  was 
more  successful. 

Edward  had  been  talking  to  one  of  his  friends  ;  but, 
by  the  quick  flush  of  his  cheek,  Esther  saw  that  Vir- 
ginia's words  had  been  overheard.  , 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  he,  "  to  be  the  unfortunate  cause 
of  depriving  you  of  so  much  pleasanter  an  escort  than 
I  can  hope  to  be." 

"Pshaw,  Edward  !  don't  make  yourself  ridiculous!" 

The  words  were  sharp,  but  spoken  in  a  low,  almost 


246  NOW-A-DAYS. 

tender  tone.  It  was  the  first  time  that  she  had  ever 
called  him  Edward.  It  seemed  to  have  been  involun- 
tary ;  for  she  added,  after  a  short  pause,  "  Excuse  me, 
Mr.  Sidney." 

"  It  is  an  offence  I  would  gladly  have  you  repeat," 
he  replied. 

"  Then  let  us  be  henceforth  Virginia  and  Edward 
to  each  other,"  was  her  reply,  as  they  walked  slowly 
homeward. 

After  this  evening  Mr.  Somers  and  a  Mr.  Dunmore, 
who  had  seemed  quite  pleased  with  Esther,  having 
attached  himself  to  her  very  devotedly  the  whole 
evening,  and  having  been  permitted  to  "  see  her 
home,"  as  he  expressed  it,  were  frequent  visitors  at 
Deacon  Sidney's. 

Mr.  Dunmore  was  a  small,  dapper  man,  remarkable 
for  nothing  but  his  gentlemanly  manners,  good  con- 
nections, and  regular  features ;  but  he  considered 
these  qualifications  as  all-sufficient,  and  had  so  good 
an  opinion  of  himself,  that  it  was  unnecessary  for 
others  to  waste  their  admiration  upon  him.  So  Esther 
said,  when  she  was  complimented  on  her  new  admirer. 
He  was  indefatigable  in  his  attentions,  and  construed 
every  repulse  which  he  met  with  from  her — and  they 
were  not  few — as  owing  merely  to  maiden  timidity. 
It  was  in  vain  that  she  attempted  to  shake  him  off; 
he  was  as  constant  as  her  shadow. 

"  He  really  appears  impudent,"  she  declared,  half 
vexed,  to  Emily.  "  1  cannot  step  out  to  the  door,  but 
his  smile  and  bow  greet  me." 

At  last  she  relapsed  into  a  passive  state  of  endu- 


THE   SEWING    CIRCLE.  247 

ranee,  hoping  that  he  would,  ere  long,  give  her  an 
opportunity  of  expressing  her  opinion  of  his  merits, 
and  to  free  herself  from  further  annoyance. 

Virginia,  meanwhile,  had  fully  proved  her  claim  to 
the  titles  of  both  belle  and  coquette.  She  treated 
Edward  and  Mr.  Somers  in  the  same  capricious  man- 
ner. "While  one  basked  in  her  smiles,  the  other  was 
chilled  by  her  petulant  manner ;  and  just  as  the 
favored  lover  was  hoping  that  his  regard  was  returned, 
lo !  he  must  take  his  turn  in  experiencing  her  apparent 
indifference,  and  see  his  rival  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
gracious  smiles,  which  he  had  so  lately  thought  were 
his  alone. 

At  such  times  Ned  would  assume  as  haughty  a 
manner  as  her  own.  Engaged  in  attentions  to  Maria, 
he  would  strive  to  appear  unconscious  of  the  fact  that 
Virginia,  absorbed  in  listening  to  Mr.  Somers,  was 
apparently  forgetful  of  all  but  the  pleasure  of  his 
society. 

But  Virginia  was  not  so  easily  deceived.  She 
would  take  no  notice  of  Edward's  scornful  smiles  until 
it  suited  her  sovereign  pleasure ;  then  she  would  re- 
quest some  trifling  favor  of  him,  and,  while  he  was 
thus  engaged,  retaining  all  his  frostiness  of  manner, 
she  would  throw  so  much  sweetness  and  reproach  into 
her  glance,  as  she  thanked  him,  and  whisper,  "Don't 
be  foolish,  Edward  !  are  you  angry  with  your  friend 
Virginia?"  that  he  could  not  but  be  won  by  her 
smiles. 

"  I  am  a  fool,  Virginia,"  said  he,  on  one  of  these  oc- 
casions, "  to  trust  to  you ;  and  as  I  am  afraid  that  I 


248  NOW-A-DAYS. 

shall  always  remain  one  till  I  have  you,  I  shall  go 
away  soon." 

Jennie  would  pay  no  heed  to  any  such  remark. 
She  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  it  was  her 
friendship,  not  her  love,  that  he  sought ;  and,  putting 
her  hand  playfully  over  his  lips,  would  reply,  "  Now, 
if  you  are  going  to  look  dignified,  and  scold,  I  won't 
talk  with  you  another  moment ;  I'll  go  and  talk  with 
Ned  Somers  ;  he's  never  so  cross." 

"  Go,  if  you  choose,"  was  Edward's  cool  reply ;  but, 
nevertheless,  he  would  drop  the  offending  subject,  and 
Virginia  would  ride  with  him,  play  his  favorite  songs, 
listen  while  he  read  to  her — in  short,  manage  to  have 
him  ever  at  her  side  till  the  wind  changed  :  and  poor 
Mr.  Somers,  who  was  so  deeply  in  love  that  he  could 
not,  as  Edward  did,  retaliate,  by  devoting  himself  to 
another,  but,  in  a  perfectly  wretched  state,  watched 
her  manoauvres,  unhappy  in  her  society,  and  unable 
to  leave  her,  was  received  again,  most  graciously,  as 
a  dear  friend ;  for  she  persisted  in  having  no  lovers, 
misunderstanding  every  lover-like  allusion  put  into 
words,  but  not  at  all  chary  of  love's  unspoken  language. 

Mr.  Templeton,  who  was  also  a  constant  visitor 
at  Deacon  Sidney's,  looked  with  indignation  at  such  a 
course  of  conduct,  and  urged  Ned  to  say  nothing  to 
her;  a  resolution  which  he  formed  every  few  days, 
and  which  he  broke  as  regularly.  Mr.  Templeton 
himself  treated  her  with  marked  displeasure ;  and 
while  he  talked  much  with  Esther,  Emily  and  Maria, 
bestowed  very  little  attention  on  Jennie.  For  this, 
however,  she  appeared  to  care  very  little.  She 


THE   SEWING   CIRCLE.  24:9 

glanced  at  him  with  a  saucy  look,  as  if  she  would  say, 
"  I  could  have  you,  too,  under  my  thumb,  if  I  thought 
you  worth  the  trouble." 

Almost  every  evening  he  read  aloud  to  the  girls 
while  they  sewed;  and  it  was  to  Esther  he  appealed, 
when  he  found  something  to  praise  or  to  condemn. 
She  understood  him ;  and  though  they  differed  often 
in  their  opinions,  Mr.  Templeton  seemed  to  enjoy 
quarrelling  with  her,  as  Emily  called  it. 

Esther  could  not  help  admiring  the  firmness,  good 
sense,  and  candor,  with  which  he  defended  his  side 
of  the  question,  and  his  kindness  and  consideration, 
which  he  displayed  in  various  ways.  He  seemed  to 
understand  her  dislike  to  Mr.  Dunmore,  and  often 
interposed  himself  between  her  and  her  tormentor.  In 
this  way  they  were  thrown  much  together,  and  ^a 
more  intimate  acquaintance  showed  each  much  to 
admire  in  the  other. 

Virginia  still  retained  her  place  in  the  affections  of 
Mrs.  Sidney  ;  for  that  lady,  not  very  clear-sighted,  had 
seen  none  of  her  capricious  treatment  of  her  son  ;  and 
as  long  as  she  praised  him,  which  she  frequently  did, 
his  mother  saw  no  obstacle  to  the  hopes  of  Edward, 
which  he  had  hinted  to  her. 

Aunt  Mary  said  nothing ;  but  Esther  felt  that  the 
calm  kindness  of  her  manner  towards  Jennie  was  very 
different  from  the  deep  tenderness  of  her  eye  and 
voice,  which  she  betrayed  towards  Maria  and  herself. 


CHAPTEK  XXII. 

AS   UNEXPECTED   MEETING. 

IT  was  a  fine  day.  "  Just  the  day  to  return  some 
of  your  calls,  girls,"  said  Emily,  as  they  were  seated 
together. 

"  Oh !"  sighed  Maria,  "  of  all  things  on  earth  I  de- 
test making  calls,  and  it  is  too  bad  to  press  such  a 
beautiful  day  into  such  service." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  returned  Virginia.  "If  the 
task  is  disagreable,  you  should  have  all  the  pleasant 
things  possible  ;  but,  for  my  part,"  she  continued,  "  I 
like  to  make  calls." 

"  I  cannot  conceive  of  such  a  state  of  mind,"  said 
Esther;  "yet  it  must  be  a  very  desirable  one  for 
people  who  think  of  having  much  society,  for  it  is  an 
unavoidable  evil." 

"Well,"  replied  Jennie,  "I'm  just  weak-minded 
enough  to  like  it.  I  don't  have  a  large  amount  of 
subjects  to  converse  on,  but  I  can  do  pretty  well  in  a 
five  minutes  chat  on  the  weather,  the  last  fashion,  and 
the  like,  and  that's  pretty  much  all  that's  required  in 
making  calls." 

"For  my  part,"  rejoined  Maria,  "I  can  never  think 
of  anything  to  say  till  it's  time  to  leave." 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  251 

"  Well,  that's  my  sphere  !"  returned  Virginia; 
"  now,  I'm  out  of  my  element  when  I  get  into  intel- 
lectual society,  where  you,  Maria,  are  at  home." 

"Why,  I'm  sure,"  said  Maria,  "you  appeared  to 
be  having  a  fine  time  last  night,  talking  with  Mr. 
Hammond  on  Henry  Ward  Beecher's  lectures  and 
sermons,  on  Whipple's  essays,  Mr.  Giles1  lectures,  and 
the  like." 

"Ah,  well,"  replied  Virginia,  "I  had  heard  all 
three  of  those  gentlemen  lecture,  and  so  got  along 
pretty  well ;  but  when  he  got  on  to  Hudson's  lectures 
on  Shakespeare,  I  was  really  frightened !  I  didn't 
know  as  I  could  stand  my  ground,  but  by  considera- 
ble exertions,  I  managed  to  come  off  with  flying 
colors." 

"  Why,  Jennie,  hadn't  you  read  them  ?" 

"  Never  a  word,"  replied  she,  "  and  what  was 
worse,  I  never  read  more  than  two  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  in  my  life." 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  so,  then  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  had  no  idea  that  he  was  going  to  talk  on 
the  subject  an  hour,  and  as  I  had  allowed  him  to  sup- 
pose that  I  knew  something  about  them  in  the  onset, 
I  couldn't  get  off  afterwards.  How  shocked  you  look, 
Maria  !''  she  continued,  "  why,  it's  the  most  common 
thing  in  the  world  for  people  to  pretend  knowledge 
that  they  don't  possess." 

"  I  should  advise  you  to  read  Mrs.  Opie,"  said 
Maria. 

"  Read  it  yourself,  my  dear,"  returned  Jennie,  "  I 
dare  say  you  tell  as  many  white  lies  as  I  do.  Come, 


252  NOW-A-DAYS. 

now,  how  often  do  you  reply  to  invitations  to  call,  a 
thing  that  you  have  owned  you  detest,  '  I  should  be 
very  happy  to  do  so  ?'  If  1  had  time,  I  could  show  a 
great  many  more  such  lies,  for  so  they  are.  The  truth 
is,  I'm  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  you,  girls,  but  I  speak 
out  what  the  rest  of  you  think.  But  come,  let's  get 
ready  to  act  a  few  of  these  same  falsehoods." 

They  hastened  up  to  their  chambers,  to  dress  for 
their  expedition.  Emily  and  Virginia  walked  along 
together,  while  Esther  and  Maria  followed. 

They  had  made  quite  a  number  of  calls,  and  were 
returning  home,  when  a  young  gentleman  crossed  the 
street,  bowed  gracefully  to  Maria  and  Virginia,  and 
shook  hands  very  cordially. 

Esther  looked  at  Maria  in  some  surprise,  for  the 
color  had  entirely  left  her  cheeks,  and  she  trembled 
violently.  Her  companions  did  not  appear  to  observe 
her  agitation,  and  Maria,  controlling  herself,  pre- 
sented Mr.  Waldron  to  Esther  and  Emily. 

Virginia  seemed  very  happy  to  meet  him  ;  had  a 
thousand  questions  to  ask  him  concerning  Portland, 
whence  he  had  come,  but  Maria  scarcely  said  a  word. 
She  seemed  confused  whenever  he  addressed  her,  and 
answered  as  briefly  as  possible. 

Mr.  Waldron  was  tall,  and  quite  handsome.  He 
was  pale,  and  did  not  seem  in  good  health,  but  seemed 
to  be  in  excellent  spirits.  He  had  relinquished  the 
task  of  conversing  with  Maria,  and  was  now  playing 
the  agreeable  to  Emily  and  Virginia. 

As  they  reached  home,  Virginia  asked  "  how  long 
he  intended  to  remain  in  Belfast." 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  253 

"  He  had  come  on  business,"  he  replied,  "  and  it 
was  rather  uncertain  how  long  his  stay  would  be,  as 
it  depended  entirely  on  circumstances." 

He  declined  going  in  at  present,  in  reply  to  Emily's 
invitation  ;  but  assured  her  that  he  would  call  often 
while  in  town ;  he  then  bowed  gracefully  and  took 
leave. 

In  answer  to  Emily's  inquiries,  Virginia  told  her 
that  Mr.  Waldron  was  a  young  man  of  good  family 
in  Portland,  and  a  very  gay  and  pleasant  acquaint- 
ance. "  Gentlemanly  in  his  manners,"  she  added, 
"  as  you  may  see  for  yourself.  Report  says,  a  little 
dissipated,  but  I  guess,  very  much  like  young  men  in 
general." 

Mr.  Waldron  was  as  good  as  his  word ;  he  called 
that  evening,  and  many  successive  ones. 

Maria  seemed  as  distant  as  ever  in  her  manners  to- 
wards him,  while  Virginia  amply  made  up,  in  her 
graciousness,  for  all  her  companion's  deficiencies. 

Both  Edward  and  Mr.  Somers  were  thrown  entirely 
into  the  shade,  by  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Waldron, 
and  both  did  not  fail  to  sneer  at  him  as  a  "  dandy, 
and  mere  lady's  man." 

To  Esther,  however,  he  did  not  appear  in  such  a 
character.  She  did  not  believe,  what  Virginia  very 
plainly  intimated,  that  he  was  one  of  her  lovers,  who 
had  followed  her,  to  urge  his  suit ;  but,  as  day  after 
day  passed,  and  still  he  lingered  in  Belfast,  she  began 
to  doubt  that  his  business  detained  him  so  long,  in 
that  quiet  place. 

"  Maria,"  said  she,  one  night,  when  they  had  gone 


254  NOW-A-DAYS. 

to  their  chamber,  which  they  now  shared  together, 
"  what  do  you  suppose  keeps  Mr.  Waldron  here  ? 
Shouldn't  you  think  he  would  go  before  long?" 

"  I  wish  he  would,"  exclaimed  Maria. 

"  Do  you  dislike  him  so  much,  then  ?"  asked 
Esther. 

"  No — yes — "  replied  Maria,  blushing  deeply ;  then 
hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  ?"  whispered  Esther, 
drawing  her  friend  tenderly  to  her  bosom.  "  Let  me 
share  your  trouble,  and  try  to  console  you,  as  I  used 
to  long  ago." 

"I  will  tell  you  all,  Esther/'  replied  Maria. 
"  Charles  Waldron  is  the  only  one  for  whom  I  ever 
cared  at  all.  Ever  since  I  came  home  from  school, 
he  has  been  so  kind  to  me,  and  so  delicate  in  his  at- 
tentions, that  almost  before  I  knew  it,  I  began  to  love 
him.  At  last,  he  asked  me  to  become  his  wife ;  I 
owned  my  affection  for  him,  and  if  my  father  should 
consent,  promised  to  be  his.  How  happy  I  was  that 
day !  I  never  dreamed  of  any  obstacle,  and  what 
was  my  surprise,  when  my  father  came  to  me,  look- 
ing, oh,  so  pale  and  wretched !  I  never  saw  him 
so  agitated !  He  held  me  in  his  arms,  and  told  me 
I  was  his  all,  and  begged  me  never  to  have  any 
thing  more  to  say  to  Charles.  He  said  that  he  was 
very  dissipated,  and  that  he  could  not  trust  his  only 
daughter  to  him.  He  said  that  it  was  my  best  good 
he  sought,  and  he  convinced  me  that  I  must  give 
Charles  up.  I  did  as  father  advised,  though  it  gave 
me  great  pain.  For  oh,  Esther !  I  did  not  know 


AN    UNEXPECTED    MEETING.  255 

how  very  much  I  loved  him,  till  I  set  about  trying 
not  to  care  for  him.  Father  was  very  kind  to  me, 
doing  every  thing  in  his  power  to  make  me  happy, 
and  I  tried  to  appear  cheerful.  Charles  did  not 
come  to  the  house,  but  I  met  him  at  parties,  and 
I  tried  to  avoid  him ;  for,  oh.  Esther  !  when  he 
talks  to  me,  I  cannot  think  of  any  one  else,  and  he 
makes  it  out,  that  I  ought  to  marry  him,  and  seems 
so  unhappy,  that  my  only  safe  way  is  to  shun  him. 
I  was  glad  to  come  here,  and  just  as  I  am  begin- 
ning to  be  more  like  myself,  he  comes  too,  and  I 
have  got  it  all  to  do  over  again." 

"  My  dearest  child,"  said  Esther,  "  you  are  doing 
right,  and  I  love  you  better  than  ever,  and  honor 
you  for  your  dutiful  conduct  to  your  father.  You 
are  indeed  his  all,  my  love,  and  you  know  what  a 
cruel  blow  it  would  be  to  him,  if  you  were  to  marry 
one  who  would  make  you  wretched,  for  your  father 
is  right." 

"  I  know  he  is,"  sighed  Maria,  "  and  I  shall  per- 
sist in  avoiding  Charles.  If  he  stays  much  longer, 
I  shall  go  home." 

"  Come  to  me  in  your  trials,  Maria,  as  you  would 
to  an  older  sister,"  said  Esther,  "  and  I  will  try  to 
advise  you  and  help  you  ;  for  yours  is  an  unpleasant 
position." 

Maria  buried  her  face  on  her  friend's  shoulder, 
weeping  silently. 

"  I  have  been  very  unhappy,"  she  said,  "  but  it  is 
a  relief  to  me  that  you  j^now  all." 

Esther  did  not  attempt  to  check  her  tears.    She  felt 


256  NOW-A-DAT8. 

that  they  would  relieve  her  ;  and  at  last  Maria  ceased, 
saying,  as  she  looked  up  into  Esther's  face,  "You 
think  me  a  silly  child !" 

"  No,  dearest,"  said  her  friend,  "  I  never  was  far- 
ther from  such  a  thought ;  but  now  let  us  prepare 
for  bed,  for  I  fear  you  will  be  sick  to-morrow." 

Maria  obeyed  and  they  were  soon  wrapped  in  slum- 
ber. 


CHAPTEK  XXIIL 


A  few  days  passed  in  the  usual  manner,  sleigh-rides, 
walks,  and  company  in  the  evenings  helped  the  hours 
away  agreeably. 

There  was  to  be  a  party  at  Mrs.  Somers'  in  honor 
of  Emily's  guests  that  night,  and  a  lovely  night  it 
was. 

"  The  clear  moonlight  shines  on  the  white  surface 
of  the  snow-clad  fields  beautifully  ;  come  and  look, 
Maria !"  said  Esther,  as,  ready  dressed  for  the  party, 
she  lifted  the  curtain  from  the  window  and  looked  out 
on  the  landscape. 

Deacon  Sidney's  house  was  situated  on  a  hill,  and, 
from  the  front  windows,  the  large  evergreens  some- 
what interrupted  the  view,  but,  from  the  side-window 
where  Esther  now  stood,  might  be  seen  not  only  the 
waters  of  the  bay,  sparkling,  clear,  and  cold  in  the 
starlight,  but  the  wide-spread  fields,  with  their  drifted 
and  uneven  surface,  looking  like  the  tossing  waves  of 
a  suddenly  frozen  sea,  where,  occasionally,  a  leafless 
tree  reminded  her  of  the  dismantled  wrecks  of  that 
same  sea,  were  also  visible,  and,  farther  below,  the 


258  NOW-A-DAY8. 

principal  part  of  the  town,  with  its  tall  church  spires, 
and  the  bright  lights  gleaming  from  many  a  happy 
home,  gave  life  to  the  picture. 

"  What  is  there  more  beautiful  than  our  winter 
landscapes  ?"  thought  she,  forgetting,  as  we  are  apt  to 
do,  how  superior  we  find  the  charm  of  each  particu- 
lar season,  in  its  turn,  to  anything  else  at  that  time. 

Perhaps,  to  a  stranger's  eye,  that  same  landscape 
might  have  looked  monotonous  and  dreary,  but,  to  her 
mind,  the  snow-clad  ground  was  associated  with  all 
the  pleasures  of  the  winter  evenings  ;  those  long  even- 
ings so  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  joys  of  home. 

It  recalled,  to  her,  her  youthful  romps  in  the  fresh, 
bracing  air,  her  wild  slides  down  hill  with  her  school- 
mates, and,  later,  the  cheerful  fireside,  the  bright  lights 
and  merry  chat  of  home,  where  she  had  pored  over 
so  many  interesting  volumes,  in  a  quiet  corner,  for- 
getting the  present  in  the  glowing  tales  of  the  past 
that  those  pages  presented ;  all  this  and  a  thousand 
similar  recollections  endeared  old  Winter  to  her,  and 
made  her  see  new  beauty  in  the  familiar  scenes  before 
her. 

She  was  indeed  lost  in  thought,  till  the  voice  of  her 
friend,  who,  obeying  her  summons,-had  joined  her  at 
the  window,  recalled  her  from  her  reverie. 

"  It  looks  like  the  smile  on  the  face  of  a  corpse,"  ex- 
claimed Maria. 

"  That  is  a  sad  thing  to  be  reminded  of  by  such 
beauty,"  returned  Esther.  "You  are  not  cheerful, 
and  everything  takes  a  tinge  from  your  sadness. 
Cheer  up!  my  little  Maria.  You  must  try  and  be 


MAKIA.  259 

hopeful !     Do  let  us  see  some  of  your  old  smiles  and 
gaiety,  to-night." 

"  Are  you  ready,  girls?"  asked  Emily,  tapping  light- 
ly at  the  door  of  their  chamber.  "  If  you  are,  let's  go 
and  give  Grandma  a  call ;  she'll  like  to  see  us  ready- 
dressed  for  the  party.  Virginia  looks  like  a  beauty, 
to-night,  don't  she,  Ned  ?"  she  continued,  as  they  met 
him  on  the  staircase. 

"  It  would  be  very  rude  in  me  to  contradict  you, 
whatever  might  be  my  opinion,"  he  replied,  gazing  at 
her  with  sufficient  admiration  to  satisfy  her,  however, 
as  the  girls  passed  him. 

They  reached  Grandma's  room  and  tapped  lightly 
at  the  door ;  Aunt  Mary  opened  it,  and  the  four  girls 
entered. 

"Wall,  gals,  so  you're  dressed  for  the  party  !"  said 
Grandma. 

"  Yes,  and  don't  we  look  handsome  ?"  asked  Jennie. 

"  Oh  yes  !  you're  tricked  out  in  all. your  bravery. 
You  remind  me  of  what  the  prophet  Isaiah  says,  in 
the  third  chapter,  '  with  your  chains,  and  bracelets, 
and  rings,  and  wimpling  pins,  ear-rings,  and  all  your 
fine  apparel,'  and  the  old  lady  sighed  deeply. 

"  Take  care,  gals,  that  you  don't  do  like  the  darters 
of  Zion,  get  '  haughty,  and  walk  with  stretched  out 
necks  and  wanton  eyes,'  lest  you  have  the  same  cuss 
that  is  pronounced  on  them.  This  generation  does 
seem  to  have  it.  At  least  part  on  it  is  coming  true, 
'  instead  of  well-set  hair,  baldness  ;'  for,  though  you 
gals  has  pooty  good  hair,  most  of  folks  seem  to  be  hav- 


260  NOW-A-DAYS. 

ing  poor  heads  on't.  Can't  you  see,  gals,"  she  contin- 
ued, "  that  we 're  living  in  the  last  days?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  thought  of  it,"  said  Es- 
ther. 

"  Can't  you  discern  the  signs  of  the  times  ?"  replied 
Grandma.  "  That's  the  way  with  you  all ;  even  Mr. 
Hammond  don't  see  it.  That's  fulfilling  the  Bible, 
too,  '  blind  leaders  of  the  blind.'  All  on  it  is  fulfilling 
fast.  Don't  they  '  go  to  and  fro,'  and  isn't  '  much 
knowledge  increased  ?'  The  world  is  dreadful  wicked, 
now-a-days !" 

"  Oh  Grandma  !  I  guess  it  will  bear  up  a  great  deal 
more  wickedness  than  it  does  now,"  said  Virginia. 

"  As  it  was  in  the  days  of  Noe,"  replied  Mrs.  Sid- 
ney, "  so  it  shall  be  then.  They  were  marrying  and 
giving  in  marriage,  and  knew  not  till  the  flood  came 
and  took  them  away." 

"  Which  looks  the  handsomest  ?"  asked  Emily,  as 
the  old  lady  paused. 

"  Oh  !  you  all  look  well  enough,"  said  the  old  lady. 
"  If  you  only  behave  as  well  as  you  look,  you'll  all  do 
nicely,"  and  she  looked  down  on  her  knitting,  which 
she  had  dropped  in  the  ardor  of  her  speech,  and  began 
to  make  her  needles  fly  fast. 

"  You  used  to  go  to  parties  when  you  were  young, 
didn't  you  ?"  asked  Jennie. 

"  Wall,  yes,  child  !  I  can't  say  but  I  did — the  more 
fool  I." 

"  Come,  girls,"  shouted  Ked,  and,  bidding  good-b}'e 
to  Grandma,  they  left  the  room. 

Aunt  Mary  had  clipped  oft'  two  rose  buds  from  her 


MARIA.  261 

single  rose-bush,  and  had  added  them  to  the  plainly- 
dressed  hair  of  Esther  and  Maria. 

"  I  hope  you'll  have  a  fine  time,"  she  said,  as  she 
bade  them  good-night. 

In  the  parlor,  they  found  Mr.  Templeton  and  Mr. 
Waldron,  whom  Virginia  had  invited  to  accompany 
them  to  Mrs.  Somers'.  All  was  gaiety  and  smiles,  and 
Maria  did,  indeed,  appear  more  like  her  olden  self. 

Charles  "Waldron  devoted  himself  quite  assiduously 
to  Virginia,  and,  though  Maria  could  not  fail  to  ob- 
serve this,  she  thanked  him  for  it. 

"  If  we  must  part,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it  makes  it 
a  much  easier  task  for  me,  if  he,  too,  sees  the  neces- 
sity of  it,  and  bestows  his  attentions  on  another." 

This  apparent  indifference,  on  Maria's  part,  did  not 
seem  to  be  the  object  which  Charles  had  sought  to 
gain. 

He  came  towards  the  latter  part  of  the  evening  to 
her  side,  and  said  something  in  a  low  tone,  of  which 
Esther  only  caught  the  words  "  heartless — cruel," 
but  which  brought  the  color  to  Maria's  cheek,  and  a 
tear  to  her  eye. 

Just  as  they  had  bade  Mrs.  Somers  good  night, 
Frederick  came  up,  and  requested  the  pleasure  of 
accompanying  Maria  home ;  before  she  could  reply, 
Charles  Waldron,  who  stood  by  her  side,  answered, 
"  /am  to  serve  as  this  lady's  escort  to-night,"  and  ere 
Maria,  surprised  at  such  a  remark,  could  collect  her 
thoughts  sufficiently  to  contradict  him,  Frederick  had 
turned  away. 

They  were  now  alone  together  ; — it  was  the  oppor- 


262  NOW-A-DA.Y3. 

tunity  which  Charles  had  long  sought,  but  which  he 
had  not  been  able  to  gain. 

"  How  could  you  do  so,  Charles  ?"  asked  Maria,  in 
an  almost  pleading  tone,  as  they  walked  homeward. 
"  You  know,  as  well  as  I,  that  we  are  separated,  and 
that  we  must  try  to  forget  the  past." 

"Forget!"  he  repeated,  bitterly.  "That  may  be 
very  easy  for  you,  but  for  me,  death  is  preferable  to 
life  without  you.  Oh,  Maria !"  he  went  on  passion- 
ately, "  you  are  mine  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  and 
mine  you  shall  be  in  the  sight  of  man.  I  love  you 
more  than  my  life,  and  you,  too,  you  cannot  deny  it, 
return  my  affection.  I  see  it  in  every  glance  of  your 
eye,  in  every  expression  of  your  face.  You  may  try 
to  overcome  it,  but  it  is,  and  it  will  be,  in  vain. 
*  What  God  has  joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asun- 
der.' " 

Maria  made  no  reply,  she  was  weeping ;  she  had 
never  before  seen  him  so  violent,  and  was  half  afraid 
of  him.  A  tear-drop  fell  on  his  hand,  and  a  half- 
suppressed  sob  met  his  ear. 

"  Forgive  me !"  he  said,  in  a  low  and  tender  voice, 
contrasting  strongly  with  the  triumphant  tone  he  had 
been  speaking  in  a  few  moments" before.  "Forgive 
me,  dearest ! — I  can  never  forgive  myself  for  causing 
you,  whom  I  would  die  to  save  from  annoyance,  a 
moment's  pain.  Say  you  forgive  me,  Maria,  for,  it  is 
my  great  love  for  you  that  makes  me  forget  myself. 
Oh,  Maria !"  he  continued,  "  since  you  left  me  I  have 
tried  to  steel  my  heart  against  you  !  I  have  tried  to 
think  you  heartless,  and  when  I  could  not,  for  your 


MABIA.  263 

words,  when  you  told  me  of  your  love,  ever  sounded 
in  my  ears,  then  I  would  try  to  drown  my  sorrows  in 
the  wine-cup.  There  I  found  temporary  oblivion ! 
What  do  I  care,  if  I  am  utterly  ruined,  soul  and  body  ? 
You  will  only  see  in  me  a  wretch  to  shudder  at,  as 
you  do  now !  And  since  no  one  cares  for  me,  why 
should  I  wish  to  live  ?  The  sooner  I  die,  and  free  you 
from  my  persecutions,  as  you  have  called  them,  the 
better  it  will  be.  For  I  tell  you,  Maria,  solemnly, 
that  I  never  will  give  over  my  pursuit  of  you,  till  you 
are  mine,  or  I  am  dead  /" 

"  Oh,  Charles  !"  exclaimed  poor  Maria,  over  whose 
weaker  nature  his  violent  and  determined  spirit 
always  gained  the  ascendancy,  "  You  will  kill  me ! 
This  continual  struggle  between  my  duty  and  love 
for  my  father,  and  my  love  for  you,  is  wearing  me 
out !  Even  Esther  sees  how  pale  and  sad  I  am. 
Your  pursuit  of  me  may  terminate  in  a  way,  you  do 
not  seem  to  think  of — in  tny  death.  I  sometimes 
think  that  you  will  break  my  heart." 

"But  are  you  doing  your  duty?"  asked  Charles. 
"  Is  it  right  for  you  to  drive  me  to  dissipation,  as  the 
only  means  of  forgetting  your  cruelty?  And  must 
you,"  he  continued,  "  even  if  you  resolve  never  to  be 
my  wife,  yet  treat  me  as  an  outcast,  shun  me  like  a 
monster  ?  Why  not  receive  me  as  a  friend,  if  no 
more — will  you  not  do  so  ?"  he  asked,  in  those  soft, 
low  tones,  which  Maria  could  never  refuse. 

"  I  will  do  so,"  she  replied,  forgetting  that  she  had 
felt  that  her  only  safety  was  in  leaving  him  altoge- 
ther. 


264  NOW-A.-DAY8. 

A  triumphant  smile  passed  over  his  face.  He  had 
gained  his  object. 

"  Let  her  receive  me  as  a  friend,''  he  thought,  "  and 
she  is  mine,  in  spite  of  all  the  world,"  as  he  bade  her 
good  night,  and  lifting  her  hand  tenderly  to  his  lips, 
left  her. 

"  Oh,  Esther  !"  said  Maria,  as  she  sat  by  her  friend's 
side,  "  Charles  does  at  last,  I  hope,  see  how  vain  it  is 
to  importune  me ; — he  is  to  be  my  friend  now,  and 
nothing  more." 

Esther  shook  her  head  doubtingly,  but  made  no  re- 
ply. Several  days  passed,  and,  as  usual,  Charles 
Waldron  was  a  frequent  guest  at  Mrs.  Sidney's. 

His  lively  sallies  of  wit,  and  frank  manners,  made 
him  a  favorite  with  all,  particularly  with  Edward, 
since  he  had  told  him,  that  he  would  by  no  means 
interfere  in  his  suit  of  Virginia. 

Maria  saw  him  often,  for  it  was  his  delight  to  sit 
by  her  side  while  she  sewed,  to  stand  near  her  when 
she  sung,  to  turn  her  music  when  she  played,  and,  in 
short,  anticipating  her  very  wish.  Whenever  she 
was  joked  at  all  about  her  lover,  as  Emily  and  Virgi- 
nia now  began  to  call  him,  she  would  reply  half  pet- 
tishly, that  u  it  was  very  singular  "that  a  lady  could 
not  have  a  gentleman  friend,  without  being  teazed 
about  him,  as  if  she  must  be  wishing  to  marry  him." 

She  avoided  now  all  conversation  with  Esther,  de- 
claring, whenever  she  was  alone  in  her  chamber  with 
her,  which  she  took  care  should  be  only  when  she  re- 
tired, "  that  she  was  extremely  sleepy ;"  and  as 


MARIA.  265 

Esther  saw  that  any  interference  on  her  part  was 
unwelcome,  she  ceased  to  say  anything  to  her. 

Late  at  night,  she  was  aroused  by  a  slight  noise, — 
she  was  a  light  sleeper, — and  opening  her  eyes,  she 
saw  Maria,  ready  dressed,  standing  by  her  bedside. 

"Why,  Maria!"  she  exclaimed,  "What  are  you 
dressed  for  ?" 

"  Hush,  Esther !"  replied  Maria,  "  Since  you  have 
waked  up,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  ;  I  am  going  away." 

"  And  where  ?"  asked  her  friend.  Then,  as  the 
truth  flashed  upon  her,  she  continued,  "Not  with 
Charles  Waldron  ?" 

"  Yes,"  returned  Maria,  calmly,  "  with  him.  I  have 
decided  that  I  ought  to  do  so." 

"  But  your  father,"  said  Esther,  looking  at  her  fix- 
edly. "  Imagine  him  in  his  desolate  home,  his  grey 
hairs  bowed  with  sorrow,  over  the  disobedience  of 
the  child  he  trusted,  and  that  he  loved  so  well." 

"Spare  me!"  exclaimed  Maria,  as  tears  streamed 
over  her  cheeks.  "  I  am  indeed  wretched  !  Which- 
ever way  I  turn,  I  bring  misery  !" 

"  Do  not  go,  Maria !  Your  first  duty  is  to  your 
father.  He  is  no  tyrant !  You  see,  as  well  as  he,  that 
this  rash  step  would  plunge  you  into  misery.  You  are 
blinded  by  your  love  for  Charles,  bewildered  by  his 
arguments.  If  you  do  this,  you  will  never  cease  to 
regret  it.  Depend  upon  it,"  continued  Esther  solemn- 
ly, "  the  curse  of  Heaven  will  rest  on  such  an  act  of 
disobedience !" 

"  But  I  have  promised  Charles,  that  I  will  meet  him 
near  the  church.     He  will  wait  for  ine !  I  must  go," 
12 


266  NOW-A-DAY8. 

said  Maria,  breaking  from  the  clasp  in  which  Esther 
enfolded  her.  "I  will  tell  him  that  I  cannot  go  with 
him  to  be  married.  I  will  repeat  to  him,  that  I  never 
will  be  his  wife  without  my  father's  consent." 

"  And  he  will  urge  you,"  interrupted  Esther,  "and 
you  will  forget  everything  in  the  world  but  him,  and 
you  will  do  as  he  wishes." 

Maria  wept  silently.  At  last  she  spoke.  "  I  must 
see  him  to-night,  if  we  never  meet  again.  Do  you  go 
with  me,  and  I  will  come  back  with  you.  But  oh  !  I 
must  go  !  and,  if  you  do  not  accompany  me,  I  shall 
go  alone." 

"  But  what  if  I  arouse  the  house  ?"  asked  Esther. 

"  Oh  !  you  cannot  be  so  cruel !  Do  go  with  me  !" 
pleaded  Maria,  "  and  I  will  promise  that  it  shall  be 
the  last  time  that  I  see  him." 

Esther  hesitated.  "  I  don't  know  but  I  am  doing  a 
very  foolish  thing,"  she  said,  as  she,  at  last,  yielded  to 
Maria's  entreaties,  and,  dressing  herself,  walked  softly 
out  of  the  house. 

It  was  but  a  short  distance  to  the  church ;  there 
Charles  awaited  Maria  with  a  horse  and  sleigh.  He 
sprang  to  meet  her,  exclaiming,  "  Then  you  are  here  at 
last.  Spring  into  the  sleigh,  and,  in  a  few  hours,  wo 
shall  be  beyond  pursuit ;  you  shall  be  mine,  and  no 
one  can  take  you  from  me." 

"  Oh  Charles,  I  cannot  go !"  whispered  Maria. 

He  started,  and,  for  the  first  time,  noticed  her  com- 
panion. "  Miss  Hastings  !''  ejaculated  he.  u  The 
devil !"  he  muttered  between  his  teeth  ;  then,  address- 
ing her,  with  much  politeness,  said,  k<  you  are  too  kind 


MARIA.  267 

to  accompany  Maria.  I  presume  you  intend  to  act  as 
brides-maid  !" 

"  No,  Mr.  "Waldron !  I  hope  to  assist  this  poor  in- 
fatuated girl  to  free  herself  from  you.  Your  present 
conduct  proves  you  unworthy  of  her.  A  man,  who 
can  persuade  a  daughter  to  forget  her  duty  to  her  aged 
parent,  will  not  find  it  a  difficult  task  to  free  himself 
from  his  own  duty  as  a  husband.  Maria  has  come  to 
bid  you  farewell  forever !" 

Charles  Waldron  listened,  with  ill-disguised  impa- 
tience, to  Esther's  remarks,  then  turning  to  Maria  who 
stood  near,  he  said,  "  Speak,  Maria,  tell  me  that  this 
is  not  so !" 

"  It  is  indeed  the  truth,"  replied  Maria.  "  I  have 
come  to  bid  you  farewell !  This  is  our  last  meeting !" 

"  It  can  not  be  so  !"  exclaimed  Charles,  "  or,  at 
least,  you  have  been  frightened  into  saying  so,  by 
Miss  Hastings.  You  do  not  really  mean  it !  You 
could  not  be  so  cruel,  to  hold  the  cup  of  happiness  to 
my  lips  but  to  snatch  it  away  untasted !" 

"  I  have  done  wrong,"  sighed  Maria,  "  but  because 
I  have  taken  one  false  step,  I  must  not  take  another. 
I  have  decided,"  and  she  sprang  to  Esther's  side,  cling- 
ing there,  as  if  for  protection  against  his  anticipated 
violence.  But,  instead  of  the  burst  of  passion  which 
she  had  expected,  he  addressed  her  in  a  low,  sad,  and 
reproachful  voice. 

"  Then  you  despise  me  !  You  cannot  trust  me  ! 
You  dash  the  last  hope  from  me ;  instead  of  giving 
me  kind  words  of  encouragement  and  your  assistance 
in  the  difficult  task  of  reforming  and  breaking  off  from 


NOW-A-DAY8. 


my  associates,  you  turn  from  me  coldly,  you  loathe 
me,  and  leave  me  to  the  only  ones  who  speak  to  me 
as  a  friend,  my  boon  companions,  and  this,"  he  added 
bitterly,  "  is  that  boasted  thing,  woman's  love  !  Like 
the  rest  of  the  world,  you,  Maria,  cast  off  the  rope  to 
which  the  poor  struggling  wretch  clings  !" 

"  Oh  Charles !"  exclaimed  Maria,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  emotion,  "  you  will  break  my  heart !  Let  me 
go !''  she  said  wildly  to  Esther,  who  held  her  firmly  in 
her  arms.  "  Let  me  go  !  I  will  not  forsake  him  in 
his  wretchedness  !  My  place  is  by  his  side !" 

"  Remember  your  father  !"  said  Esther  ;  "  when  he, 
sick  and  feeble,  calls  vainly  for  his  child,  shall  a  stran- 
ger's voice  reply  to  him  ?  a  stranger's  hand  supply  his 
wants  2  Remember  that  you  make  his  home  a  wretch- 
ed one ;  you  leave  him,  in  his  old  age,  desolate  and 
childless!" 

"  Choose  between  us !"  said  Charles,  approaching 
her,  for  he  felt  sure  of  a  decision  in  his  favor. 

"  Oh  Esther  !"  exclaimed  poor  Maria,  "  what  shall 
I  do?" 

"  Mr.  "Waldron  !"  said  Esther,  turning  to  him,  "  you, 
alone,  are  the  cause  of  the  misery  of  one  you  profess 
to  love  !  It  is  your  dissipation  alone,  which  causes 
the  objections  of  her  father ;  it  depends  on  you,  alone, 
to  remove  that.  If  you  love  her,  as  you  say,  call  that 
strong  will,  which  you  now  exert  to  overpower  Maria's 
weaker  nature,  to  aid  you  in  reforming  !  If  you  cannot 
break  from  your  associates  without  her  help,  you  never 
can  with  it !  Take  your  stand  firmly,  as  a  man  should. 
Do  not  picture  your  future  to  her  as  that  of  a  desolate 


MARIA.  269 

wretch,  which  is  untrue,  but  go  into  the  world,  and 
show  yourself  worthy  of  her.  Be  worthy  of  yourself ! 
You  have  talents  of  a  high  order.  Go,  and,  in  a  few 
years'  time,  if  you  choose,  you  may  claim  her  as  your 
bride,  and  receive  her  from  her  father's  hands,  with 
that  father's  blessing,  instead  of,  as  now,  stealing  her 
away,  carrying  sorrow  to  an  old  man's  heart,  and,  per- 
haps, pursued  by  his  curse !" 

Charles  Waldron  hesitated ;  his  better  nature  was 
roused.  "  Is  this  what  you  would  say,  Maria  ?"  he 
asked. 

"  It  is,"  was  her  reply  ;  "  go,  and  may  God  bless 
you !" 

"  One  last  embrace,"  he  said,  and  as  Esther  hesi- 
tated, he  added,  "  Do  not  fear  me !  I  will  not  take 
her  against  her  will !" 

He  pressed  her  convulsively  in  his  arms,  and  re- 
peated, "  I  promise  to  claim  you,  in  the  presence  of 
the  world,  in  four  years'  time,  if  I  have  the  right  to 
do  so, — or  if  I  fail,  we  never  meet  again." 

He  laid  the  half-fainting  girl  in  Esther's  arms,  and, 
springing  into  the  sleigh,  was  soon  lost  to  sight. 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  Esther  bore  her  to 
the  house  ;  but  here,  Maria  made  a  great  effort,  that 
she  might  reach  her  room  without  awaking  any  one, 
and  succeeded  in  doing  so.  And  as  Esther  laid  her 
upon  the  bed.  she  fell  on  her  knees,  by  her  side,  ex- 
claiming, involuntarily,  "  Thank  God  !  she  is  saved !" 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

A   PEEP   INTO   FUTURITY. 

THE  morning  sun  shone  brightly  into  Esther's  face, 
as  she  woke  from  her  troubled  sleep,  and  glancing  at 
Maria,  she  was  almost  frightened  to  see  the  pallor  of 
her  cheek.  She  was  already  awake,  and  in  answer 
to  Esther's  inquiries,  said  that  "  she  had  not  slept 
at  all." 

"  You  are  unable  to  go  down  to  breakfast,"  replied 
Esther ;  "  I  will  make  excuses  for  you.  Try,  now, 
my  dear,  to  sleep  a  little,  for  you  need  rest  and 
quiet." 

"  Maria  is  not  well  this  morning,"  repeated  Esther, 
in  answer  to  the  numerous  questions  which  met  her, 
on  her  entrance  of  the  dining-room.  "  She  did  not 
sleep  much  last  night,  and  is  trying  now  to  make  up 
for  the  lack  of  it." 

Breakfast  was  soon  over,  and  they  had  hardly  en- 
tered the  sitting-room,  when  a  note  was  handed  to 
Emily,  from  Charles  Waldron,  telling  her  that  he 
was  obliged  to  leave  town  suddenly,  which  must  be 
his  excuse  for  not  coming  to  make  a  parting  call. 

"  I'm  really  sorry  that  he  has  gone,"  said  Virginia, 
"  for  he's  such  a  nice,  pleasant,  social  companion." 

"  We  shall  certainly  miss  him  a  great  deal,"  re- 


A   PEEP    INTO   FUTURITY.  271 

marked  Emily,  while  Esther  went  to  her  chamber  to 
tell  Maria  that  he  had  left  Belfast. 

To  her  great  satisfaction,  she  found  her  friend 
sleeping,  and  returned  to  the  sitting-room. 

Emily  and  Virginia  were  talking  together  quite 
earnestly.  "Emily  is  calling  her  names!"  said  Jer- 
nie,  as  Esther  re-entered. 

"  What  is  she  calling  you  ?"  asked  Esther. 

"  Oh  !  a  coquette !"  replied  Jennie.  "  Now,  it 
isn't  true,  is  it  2" 

"  Emily  !"  called  Mrs.  Sidney,  "  come  here  a  mo- 
ment !"  and  she  hurried  out  of  the  room  to  obey  the 
summons,  while  Esther  replied :  "  Since  you  have 
asked  me  such  a  home  question,  I  must  say,  that  I 
think  you  are !  And,  Jennie,"  she  continued,  "  al- 
low me  to  use  the  freedom  of  a  friend,  in  telling 
you,  that  I  think  you  are  cruelly  trifling  with  Edward 
Sidney  and  Frederick  Somers.  It  seems  to  me,  that 
you  ought  to  decide  between  them,  and  not  keep 
them  both  in  a  state  of  suspense,  as  you  now  do." 

"Keally,  Miss  Hastings!"  replied  Virginia,  her 
eyes  flashing  fire,  and  cheeks  flushing  with  anger, 
"  you  have  given  me  quite  a  lecture. — As  if  I  must 
choose  to  find  a  husband,  in  either  Edward  Sidney 
or  Frederick  Somers !  At  any  rate,"  she  added,  "  if 
I  do  flirt  a  little,  I  do  not  practice  my  arts  upon  the 
betrothed  of  another,  like  some  others  I  could  name." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Esther,  in  her  turn 
indignant. 

"  Just  what  I  say,"  replied  Virginia.  "  If  the  coat 
fits,  take  it." 


272  NOW-A-DAYS. 

Esther  looked  at  her,  in  speechless  indignation. 

"  Really,  Esther,"  said  Virginia,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "  I  wish  I  had  your  eyes.  You  make  a  pretty 
good  use  of  them,  I  confess,  but  I  could  do  better.  I 
suppose  that  is  a  withering  glance,  of  which  I  have 
heard  so  much,  though  I  have  never  been  favored 
with  one,  of  such  power,  before.  I  wonder  that  I  am 
not  annihilated,  yet  I  am,  I  believe,  unscathed.  I 
must  be  encased  in  a  three-fold  coat  of  armor." 

Esther  was  on  the  point  of  replying  that  she  was 
right,  that  nothing  could  penetrate  her  protection  of 
assurance,  but  she  made  no  such  reply :  "  I  do  not 
know  what  you  mean,"  she  said  instead. 

"  Then,  why,  my  dear,  did  you  fly  into  such  a  pas- 
sion, and  blush  so  deeply,  if  you  were  so  innocent  ? 
No,  Miss  Esther,  with  those  deep-seeing  eyes  of  yours, 
you  are  not  unconscious  that  Mr.  Templeton  is  dead 
in  love  with  you." 

"  Virginia  !"  replied  Esther,  calmly,  "  I  hope  you 
are  jesting  ;  at  any  rate,  I  must  request  you  to  abstain 
from  such  expressions.  If  your  words  are  in  jest,  they 
are  unwelcome ;  if  they  are  serious,  they  are  insult- 
ing." 

"  Esther,  my  dear,"  was  Jennie's  reply,  "  you 
should  go  on  to  the  stage.  Your  air  and  manner 
would  do  justice  to  any  Tragedy  Queen.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  you  would  be  a  star  in  a  very  short  time." 
Then  turning  to  the  window,  she  began  humming — 
"  Oh,  no !  we  never  mention  her,"  while  Esther,  half 
vexed  with  her,  said  nothing. 

Emily  soon  entered.    "  What  shall  we  do  with  our- 


A    PEEP    INTO    FUTURITY.  273 

selves  to-day?"  she  asked.  "  I  have  just  been  in  to 
see  Maria;  she  says  she  feels  much  better,  and  is 
about  getting  up.  What  do  you  say,  after  she  has 
taken  her  breakfast,  to  going  to  old  Mrs.  Watson's, 
and  having  our  fortunes  told  ?" 

."That  it  would  be  capital  sport,"  said  Virginia, 
while  Esther  smilingly  replied  that  she  should  like  to 
go  also. 

"  Very  well,  then,  we  will  have  the  horse  harnessed, 
after  Maria  has  breakfasted,  and  ride  there  ;  it  is  only 
about  a  mile  from  here,  and  the  drive  will  do  Maria 
good." 

They  were  soon  ready,  and  started  on  their  way ; 
at  last,  they  reached  the  house — a  little  low  cottage, 
which,  failing  to  receive  any  paint  from  its  owner, 
had  assumed,  from  the  hand  of  Time,  a  dirty  brown 
hue. 

Emily  pushed  open  the  outer  door,  as  it  was  ajar, 
and  stepped  in.  The  entry  was  unfinished ;  there 
were  no  balusters  to  the  stair-case,  and  the  sides  of 
the  place  were  lathed  only.  Several  water-pails  orna- 
mented the  entry,  over  which  they  very  nearly  stum- 
bled. 

They  knocked  at  the  inner  door  for  some  time  in 
vain,  though  they  heard  heavy  footsteps  in  the  next 
room. 

At  last  the  door  opened,  and  a  small- framed  woman, 
a  little  bent  by  age,  stood  before  them.  She  was  far 
from  prepossessing  in  her  appearance ;  her  complex- 
ion sallow  and  face  wrinkled,  her  hair  hung  in  elf- 
12* 


274  NOW-A-DAYS. 

locks  from  under  her  cap,  and  her  eyes  were  keen  and 
piercing. 

"  Wall !"  was  Mrs.  Watson's  first  salutation,  "  What 
under  the  sun  do  you  stand  there,  knockin'  and 
knockin',  as  if  you  was  goin'  to  tear  anybody's  house 
down.  When  you  hear  folks  round,  and  they  don't 
come  to  the  door,  yon  orter  go  where  they  be ;  of 
course  they're  busy,  and  don't  want  to  be  called  off." 

"  Can  you  wait  upon  us,  this  morning  ?"  asked 
Emily. 

"  I  dunno,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  hev  hed  lots  of  com- 
pany this  mornin'.  '  When  it  rains  it  alus  pours,' 
and  they  alus  come  the  wrong  time.  I  hedn't  got 
my  bed  made  nor  nothin'  done,  and  I  was  detar- 
mined  to  git  my  bed  done,  when  I  heerd  you ;  that's 
what  I  was  a  doin'  on  when  you  come.  It's  most 
dinner-time  now,  and  my  old  man  '11  be  hoppin'  mad, 
ef  his  dinner  haint  ready  when  he  gits  home.  But 
you  might  as  well  come  in ;  you're  coldin'  my  room, 
keepin'  the  door  open.  I  don't  want  to  warm  all  out 
doors." 

The  girls  obeyed  her  summons,  and  wiping  the  dust 
out  of  four  chairs  with  her  apron,  she  offered  seats  to 
her  company,  all  the  while  talking. 

"  It's  alus  jist  so;  I  niver  knowed  it  to  fail.  Folks 
alus  foriver  comes  the  wrong  time.  Now,  last  week, 
I  should  hev  been  glad  to  seen  somebody,  but  here  I 
sot,  day  after  day,  and  no  livin  cretur  come  nigh  me. 
And  to-day  and  yesterday  1  was  so  driv  that  I  didn't 
actually  know  whether  I  was  on  my  head  or  my 
heels." 


A    PEKP    INTO    FUTURITY.  275 

While  she  was  delivering  her  tirade,  Esther  looked 
around  the  room  with  some  curiosity. 

The  floor  was  unpainted,  but  clean  ;  a  bench  stood 
under  one  window,  and  a  table  under  the  other ;  a 
small  cooking-stove  occupied  the  centre  of  the  room  ; 
behind  this  was  a  clothes-line,  on  which  hung  several 
towels,  a  pair  or  two  of  stockings,  and  an  apron.  The 
chairs  were  of  Indian  manufacture,  with  straight 
backs  and  basket-work  seats  ;  a  small  closet,  or  rather 
a  few  shelves,  covered  with  dishes,  stood  opposite  the 
window  ;  by  the  side  of  this,  upon  a  water-pail,  laid 
the  dough-board  and  rolling-pin,  close  to  which  hung 
a  roller-towel. 

While  Esther  was  making  observations,  Emily  was 
urging  the  old  lady  to  tell  their  fortunes. 

"  You  will  have  plenty  of  time,"  she  said,  and  at 
last  Mrs.  Watson  pulled  out  her  table,  wiped  it  with 
her  apron,  which  seemed  to  answer  a  great  many  pur- 
poses, and  going  to  a  bag  which  hung  in  the  corner, 
took  out  an  old  and  much  worn  pack  of  cards,  arid 
shuffling  them,  handed  them  to  Virginia  to  cut  in 
three  piles,  telling  her  to  wish  each  time. 

Virginia  drew  her  chair  to  the  table  and  did  as  she 
was  commanded. 

"  Wall !"  said  the  old  lady,  taking  her  cards  up, 
and  laying  them,  one  by  one,  on  the  table,  in  rows. 
"  Wall !  You're  a  gal  that  hez  a  great  many  beaux 
—you  go  into  a  great  deal  of  company,  and  haint 
never  hed  no  great  trouble.  You  wisht  somethin' 
about  a  dark-haired  feller,  and  you'll  git  your  wish  ; 
but  you'll  hev  a  little  trouble  gittin'  on't.  There's  a 


276  NOW-A-DAY8. 

light  complected  feller,  that  bears  a  good  heart  for 
you,  but  you  don't  care  nothin'  about  him — your  back 
is  turned  to  him,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  queen  of 
hearts,  which  was  the  card  she  called  Virginia. 
"There's  an  old  man  dreadful  taken  with  you,"  she 
went  on.  "  He  wants  you  orfully  ;  see,  he's  stand  in' 
on  his  head,  he's  in  sich  a  hurry,"  pointing  to  the 
knave  of  clubs.  Cut  agin,  and  I'll  tell  ye  whether 
you  hev  him  or  not." 

Yirginia  did  so,  and  the  old  lady  re-commenced : 

"  You  don't  live  where  you're  stayin'  now  ;  you're 
goin'  to  move  soon.  There  you  be  ;  there's  good  luck 
round  you.  This  is  a  good  fortin' ;  you've  seen  your 
wust  days.  There's  money  round  that  old  feller ;  he's 
nearer  you  than  tuthers  be  this  time.  Cut  agin !" 

The  third  time  she  announced  that  there  was  a  let- 
ter coming  to  her.  "  Good  news  in  it,"  she  said. 
"  You'll  be  married  in  six  weeks  or  six  months  to  the 
old  feller.  He'll  be  a  good  husband  to  you." 

Maria's  turn  now  came,  and  very  nearly  the  same 
fortune  was  in  store  for  her ;  it  was  varied,  however, 
by  a  present,  and  a  journey  over  the  water. 

"  You  won't  be  married  quite  so  soon  as  t'other  gal, 
nor  you  haint  got  quite  so  good  a  fortin',  but  it's  pooty 
good.  There's  an  old  man  got  a  good  heart  for  you  ; 
I  guess  it's  your  father.  There's  a  light  complected 
feller  and  a  dark  complected  feller  in  love  with  you. 
You  wisht  about  one  on  'em,  but  I'm  afeard,  my  dear, 
that  you  won't  git  your  wish ;  there's  a  disappoint- 
ment near  it,  but  you  may  git  it  arter  all :  there  haint 
no  very  bad  ceards  round  it.  You're  goin'  to  hcv  a 


A    PEEP   INTO   FUTURITY.  277 

bit  of  sickness,  yon  or  somebody  very  near  you,  p'raps 
it's  your  father,  but  he'll  git  well  again." 

She  now  proceeded  to  tell  Esther's  fortune,  first 
filling  her  tea-kettle,  and  putting  in  some  potatoes  to 
bake. 

"  We  must  hev  dinner  for  all  fortins,"  she  said,  as 
she  resumed  her  seat.  Esther,  she  told  that  she  had 
lost  a  near  friend  not  long  since,  which  Esther's  dress 
indicated,  and  at  which  she  expressed  no  surprise. 

"  You're  a  quiet  kind  of  a  gal,"  she  said,  "  and 
don't  meddle  with  nobody's  business  but  your  own. 
You  have  seen  your  wust  days  ;  there's  good  luck  in 
store  for  you.  You  are  goin'  to  be  married  sooner 
than  you  think  fur ;  in  less  than  a  year.  You  won't 
have  no  greats  of  a  house,  but  you  don't  care  about 
show ;  you'd  rather  hev  one  room,  and  keep  it  neat 
and  clean.  Sally  Jenkins  was  in  here  last  night,"  she 
went  on,  suddenly  pausing  in  the  midst  of  her  fortune 
telling.  "  She  and  a  real  nice-looking  feller.  Do 
you  know  whether  she's  courted  or  not  ?" 

Esther  did  not,  as  Miss  Jenkins  was  not  one  of  her 
acquaintances. 

"So  Peggy  Baker  is  married  at  last,"  continued 
Mrs.  Watson,  handing  the  cards  to  Esther  to  shuffle. 
"  I  alus  thought  she'd  come  to,  and  hev  him." 

"  I  never  did,"  said  Virginia,  very  demurely,  while 
her  companions  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  Oh !  I  knowed  she  would,"  returned  Mrs.  Wat- 
son. "  I  see  his  love-letters.  I  s'pose  I've  heerd  five 
hundred  read,  but  his'n  beat  all.  Oh!  they  made 
my  very  blood  run  cold  !  so  good,  passages  of  scrip- 


278  NOW-A-DAYS. 

ture  in  'em.  '  Oh,  Peggy  !'  says  he,  '  I  love  you 
dearly,  I  do  wisht  I  could  see  you  ;  I  shall  sartin  die 
without  you !'  Oh,  it  brought  tears  to  my  eyes  to 
hear  um.  Wall !  he'll  make  her  a  good  husband." 

She  now  proceeded  to  finish  telling  Esther's  fortune, 
which  was  speedily  accomplished.  Emily  declined 
having  her's  told ;  the  ninepences  were  paid,  and  the 
girls  bade  her  good-bye,  thanking  her  for  her  repeated 
invitations  to  come  again,  as  she  said  she  hadn't  "  half 
time  to  tell  their  fortins." 

"  She  is  a  great  curiosity,"  they  repeated,  and 
laughed  gaily  at  the  similarity  of  their  fortunes. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A   TRIAL. 

IT  was  night.  Maria  slept  quietly  by  her  side,  but 
Esther  tossed  restlessly  upon  her  sleepless  couch. 

The  words  of  Virginia,  "  Mr.  Templeton  loves  you  !" 
seemed  ringing  in  her  ears.  "  Is  it  so  ?"  she  thought, 
"  and  if  so,  why  should  ray  heart  bound  exultingly  at 
the  idea  ?  Have  I  then  given  my  affections  to  the 
betrothed  of  another  ?" 

She  would  have  banished  the  unwelcome  thoughts, 
and  in  a  pleasant  reverie,  pictured  to  herself  her  fu- 
ture as  the  wife  of  one  so  noble,  good,  and  generous, 
as  Mr.  Templeton. 

She  hardly  thought  of  Emily  at  all,  but  a  pang  of 
self-reproach  struck  her  as  she  Reflected  on  the  fate  of 
her  friend. 

"Shall  I  then  bring  wretchedness  upon  her?"  she 
asked  herself,  "  selfish,  heartless  being  that  I  am !" 
She  tried  now  to  cheat  herself  into  the  belief  that  it 
was  only  as  a  friend  that  she  regarded  him ;  but  the 
pang  that  struck  her  heart,  as  she  thought  of  him  as 
the  husband  of  another,  convinced  her  of  the  truth, 
unwelcome  as  it  was,  and  she  resolved  to  look  it  fear- 


SioO  NOW-A-DAYS. 

lessly  in  the  face,  and  to  set  herself  at  once  about  the 
task  of  estranging  herself  from  him. 

"  I  must  avoid  him,"  she  thought,  "  for  I  cannot 
trust  myself  in  his  society.  Weak,  foolish  girl,  that 
I  am !" 

Bitterly  she  reproached  herself,  but  at  last,  having 
made  her  resolutions,  and  marked  out  her  future 
course,  she  fell  asleep. 

For  several  days  following,  she  adhered  to  her  de- 
termination. She  excused  herself  on  one  plea  after 
another,  when  Mr.  Templeton  offered  to  read  to  her ; 
and  if  left  alone  with  him,  replied  briefly  to  his  re- 
marks, and  if  possible  left  him.  She  noticed  that  this 
unusual  reserve  seemed  to  give  him  pain ;  he  ap- 
peared surprised,  but  said  nothing ;  and  in  the  pre- 
sence of  others,  she  treated  him  as  ever  in  a  calm 
and  friendly  manner. 

One  day  Virginia,  Emily,  and  Maria  had  gone  out 
to  take  a  ride.  Esther  had  declined  going,  as  she  had 
several  letters  to  write,  and  was  busily  engaged  in  so 
doing,  when  Mr.  Templeton  entered. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  in  a  slightly  confused  man- 
ner, "  that  the  girls  h%e  all  gone  away  ;  I  will  speak 
to  aunt  Mary ;"  and  she  arose  to  do. so* 

"  Stop,  Esther  !"  replied  Mr.  Templeton,  looking  at 
her  reproachfully  ;  "  I  am  not  at  all  sorry  to  have  an 
opportunity  to  ask,  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  reserve 
with  which  you  treat  me  ?  Is  it,  as  I  have  thought, 
that  you  have  discovered  my  feelings  towards  you,  and 
would  chill  me,  by  the  expression  of  your  indiffer- 
ence?" 


A    TRIAL.  281 

"  Mr.  Terapleton,"  replied  Esther,  endeavoring  to 
release  her  hand,  which  he  held  firmly  in  his  grasp, 
"  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  given  occasion  for  any 
grave  charge.  I  regard  you  as  a  friend,  and  ever 
shall,  as  a  very  kind  and  highly  valued  one.  I  hope 
to  be  esteemed  by  you  in  the  same  light." 

"  Friend  !"  repeated  Mr.  Templeton  ;  then  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  Do  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  me, 
Esther.  You  do  not,  or  at  least  you  shall  not !  I  am 
ready  fearlessly  to  avow,  that  I  love  you,  as  I  never 
dreamed  that  I  could  love  woman,  with  a  devotion 
such  as  no  one  ever  can  offer  you,  since  I  am  willing 
even  to  be  called  dishonorable  to  gain  you.  And 
now  tell  me  that  I  am  pledged  to  another ;  that  all  the 
world  will  despise  me ;  tell  me  this,  and  yet  I  can 
bear  it.  For  if  these  are  your  words,  yet  in  your 
heart  you  will  not  say  so,  for  I  have  read  your  inmost 
soul,  Esther.  You  love  me  !  I  read  it  in  your  vary- 
ing color,  in  your  look,  even  in  the  coldness  with 
which  you  have  treated  me  in  everything." 

Esther's  eyes  flashed  indignantly — for  this  manner 
of  triumphantly  asserting  that  she  loved  him  roused 
her  pride — as  she  replied,  •ince  you  have  uttered 
the  words  that  I  would  have  said,  you  have  spared  me 
the  pain  of  telling  one,  whom  I  ha/ve  esteemed  indeed, 
that  he  is  about  proving  himself  unworthy  of  the  high 
place  in  my  regard  that  I  had  given  him.  And  how 
have  I  then  given  you  occasion  to  make  the  bold 
avowal  that  /return  your  love,  as  you  are  pleased  to 
call  your  sentiments  towards  me?  You  mistake  me, 
Mr.  Templeton,  if  you  think  that  I  regard  the  solemn 


282  NOW-A-DAY8. 

tie  which  binds  you  to  Emily  as  a  light  thing,  to  be 
cast  off  as  the  whim  takes  you.  If  I  have  been  so 
weak  as  to  forget  this  it  was  but  for  a  moment.  I 
have  some  regard  for  my  honor,  if  you  have  none." 

"  Forgive  me,"  returned  Mr.  Templeton,  when  she 
had  ceased  speaking,  "  but  hear  me,"  he  added,  as  she 
turned  to  leave  the  room.  "  Is  it  then  more  honorable, 
since  you  tell  me  I  have  forgotten  it,  to  marry  Emily, 
when  my  whole  heart  is  another's  ?  To  make  her  my 
wife,  in  the  sight  of  man,  when  this  is  but  a  solemn 
mockery  in  the  sight  of  God  !  Shall  I  not  do  her  a 
deeper  wrong,  in  so  doing,  than  if  now,  before  it  is 
too  late,  I  tell  her  that  I  was  mistaken  in  my  feelings 
towards  her,  that  I  do  not  love  her  as  I  ought.  Tell 
me,  Esther  !  Forgive  my  rash  and  passionate  words, 
and  show  me  what  I  should  do  in  such  trying  circum- 
stances. Be  my  friend  now,  if  you  will  not  be  more.'' 

Esther  was  much  moved,  for  a  voice  in  her  heart 
was  seconding  his  words.  She  hesitated — "  But  Emily  ! 
she  loves  him  so  deeply,  so  devotedly ;  shall  I  cause 
her  this  great  grief  ?"  she  thought,  and  despised  her- 
self for  her  momentary  hesitation. 

"  Mr.  Templeton,"  said  she,  "  you  do  love  Emily ! 
It  is  only  a  momentary  infatuation  which  has  led  you 
to  imagine  that  you  preferred  me.  You  have  won 
her  affections,  and  it  is  right  that  you  should  marry 
her.  You  will  conquer  this  fancy  for  me,  and,  happy 
in  the  consciousness  of  doing  right,  and  blessed  with 
her  love,  you  will  forget  me ;"  and  as  she  pronounced 
these  words,  which  she  felt  were  to  separate  her  from 
nim  forever,  her  voice  faltered. 


A   TRIAL.  283 

"  Oh,  Esther,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Templeton,  "  how  can 
you  thus  do  violence  to  your  nature  ?  Are  you  not 
doing  yourself  a  deeper  wrong  than  the  fancied  one 
to  Emily  ?  For,  Esther,  you  mistake  me  ;  calm,  cold, 
and  unimpassioned  as  I  may  have  appeared  to  you, 
to  others,  and  even  to  myself,  I  see  now  that  there  is 
a  depth  to  my  feelings  of  which  I  had  never  dreamed, 
until  my  love  for  you  has  revealed  my  secret  soul.  I 
thought  that  I  loved  Emily  !  But  now  I  see  that  I 
knew  not  what  it  was  to  love.  You  have  taught  me 
this  !  You  have  showed  me  what  happiness  might  be 
mine,  and  yet  turn  from  me  with  cold  words  of  duty, 
bidding  me  go  on,  where  every  step  plunges  me  deeper 
into  misery !  Is  it  the  sincere  and  upright  Esther 
Hastings  who  condemns  me  to  a  life  of  hypocrisy  ?" 

Esther  trembled  and  turned  pale.  Mr.  Templeton 
noticed  the  impression  he  had  made,  and  added, 
"  Weigh  well  what  you  say !  for  on  your  decision 
hangs,  not  only  my  life-long  happiness,  but  that  of 
Emily.  Think  you  that  she  will  not  soon  perceive  that 
my  heart  is  not  hers  ?  and  will  she  not  reproach  me 
for  the  tenfold  greater  wrong  that  I  do  her,  in  marry- 
ing her,  than  if  I  had  taken  the  straight-forward 
course  of  telling  her  the  truth  now?  It  may  cause 
her  a  little  sorrow  at  first,  but  I  know  her ;  she  has  not 
the  depth  of  heart  that  you  have,  Esther." 

At  the  mention  of  Emily,  Esther  recovered  herself 
at  once.  "  You  do  not  know  Emily,"  she  said,  "  if 
you  think  she  has  not  heart.  Her  very  life  is  in  the 
affections.  You  are  wound  into  her  inmost  nature ; 
and  if  you  leave  her  now,  you  cast  a  blight  on  her 


284  NOW  A-DAY8. 

young  life.  You  deceive  yourself,  if  you  hope  for 
happiness,  when  you  have  rushed  on  in  the  path  which 
wild,  reckless  passion  would  point  out  as  the  true  one, 
heedless  of  the  broken  heart  of  one  whom  you  have 
vowed  to  cherish.  No,  it  is  right  for  you  to  marry 
her,  and  in  the  right  you  will  find  the  only  true  hap- 
piness." 

"And  shall  I  cause  no  sorrow  to  you,  Esther?" 
asked  her  companion,  in  low,  tender  tones. 

She  made  no  reply  for  a  moment,  then  answered : 
"  You  have  already  caused  me  pain,  by  speaking  to 
me  as  you  have  done,  and  I  should  never  have  list- 
ened to  such  words  from  the  betrothed  of  my  friend. 
Such  weakness  I  must  expiate  by  repentance.  But 
you  do  not  inflict  on  me  a  life-long  grief,  as  you  would 
on  poor  Emily." 

"  Then  you  will  not  admit  that  you  love  me  ?"  he 
exclaimed. 

"  To  what  purpose  do  you  ask  me  to  do  such  a  wild 
and  foolish  thing  ?"  replied  Esther.  "  You  have  prom- 
ised to  abide  by  my  decision.  You  have  done  Emily 
a  great  wrong,  in  gaining  her  affections,  while  you  have 
withheld  your  own.  The  only  remedy  in  your  power 
is  to  strive  now  to  give  her  your  whole  heart." 

"Noble  girl !"  replied  Mr.  Templeton,  as  he  looked 
at  her,  with  ardent  admiration.  "  I  will  follow  your 
counsels ;  let  me  still  remain  your  friend.  Forget  and 
forgive  my  mad  folly,"  he  added,  taking  her  hand, 
almost  reverentially,  and,  bidding  her  farewell,  left 
her. 

Once  alone,  Esther's  assumed  fortitude  gave  way. 


A    TRIAL.  285 

She  hastened  to  her  chamber,  and,  fastening  her  door, 
flung  herself  upon  her  couch,  and  wept  bitterly.  Yet 
she  did  not  regret  the  course  which  she  had  pursued. 
She  looked  into  the  future.  Alas  !  all  was  a  blank 
there.  "  Shall  I,  then,"  she  thought,  "  because  I  have 
met  with  one  heavy  blow,  sink,  crushed  beneath  it  ? 
I,  who  can  counsel  others  so  bravely,  shall  I,  then,  at 
once  yield  to  despair  ?  No  !  let  me  now  act  as  I  have 
advised  others ;  let  me  be  up  and  doing.  And  have  I 
not,  too,  been  in  danger  of  forgetting  the  great  Cre- 
ator, while  fixing  my  affection  on  one  of  his  crea- 
tures !" 

She  arose,  and,  falling  upon  her  knees  by  her  bed- 
side, prayed  fervently  to  be  aided  in  the  path  which 
she  felt  that  she  had  done  right  in  choosing.  As  she 
prayed  she  grew  calmer  ;  and  there  anew  she  devoted 
herself  to  the  cause  of  Christ. 

She  had  hardly  arisen  from  her  position,  when  a  tap 
at  the  door  was  heard.  She  opened  it,  and  admitted 
aunt  Mary. 

"  You  are  not  well  to-day,"  said  she,  fondly  smooth- 
ing Esther's  disordered  hair.  "  Let  me  bathe  your 
head  now,  for  your  eyes  show  plainly  enough  that 
you  are  suffering  from  a  head-ache." 

Esther  suffered  her  it>  lead  her  to  a  seat,  for  a  faint- 
ness  was  coming  over  her,  and  she  fell  back,  pale  and 
death-like,  in  her  chair.  Aunt  Mary,  at  once  dashing 
cold  water  upon  her,  restored  her  to  consciousness. 

"  My  poor  child,"  she  whispered,  softly,  as  she  bore 
her  to  the  bed,  "  what  has  happened  to  you  ?" 

"  Oh  !  it  is  nothing,"  replied  Esther,  "  or,  at  least, 


286  NOW-A-DAYS. 

nothing  that  you  can  help,"  and  tears,  which  she  could 
not  restrain,  flowed  over  her  cheeks. 

"  At  least  I  can  sympathize  with  you,  my  child," 
returned  Aunt  Mary,  "  and  perhaps  I  have  read  your 
coming  sorrows,  even  before  you  yourself  knew  them. 
Do  not  tremble  so,  my  love.  One,  who  has  suffered 
as  I  have  done,  gains  a  marvellous  quickness  in  seeing 
the  woes  of  others.  Am  I  not  right  in  thinking  that 
Mr.  Templeton  loves  you  ?" 

Esther  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  murmured, 
in  the  deepest  humiliation,  "  alas,  Aunt  Mary,  /  have 
been  so  weak  and  so  wicked  as  to  return  it." 

Miss  Sidney  pressed  her  warmly  to  her  heart,  and, 
lying  on  her  motherly  bosom  in  tears  and  blushes, 
Esther  told  her  all. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  own  noble  child  !"  said  Aunt 
Mary,  when  she  had  finished  ;  then,  folding  her  in  her 
warm  embrace,  added,  "your  secret  is  as  safe  as  if 
you  had  entrusted  it  to  your  mother's  keeping." 

Several  days  had  passed.  Esther  had  regained  her 
calm  cheerfulness  of  manner,  but  she  felt  restless  and 
unhappy.  Strive  as  she  might  against  depression,  she 
could  not  wholly  overcome  it.  "  I  must  busy  myself 
about  something,"  she  resolved,  and  soon  made  known 
her  determination  to  return  to-rXewton. 

Emily  warmly  urged  her  to  prolong  her  visit,  but 
she  had  decided  and  was  unmoved.  Maria  and  Vir- 
ginia, too,  said  that  they  had  already  prolonged  their 
stay  longer  than  they  had  any  idea  of  doing,  and,  in 
the  course  of  a  few  days,  the  three  friends  left  together. 

Esther  had  no  sooner  reached  Newton  than  she  an- 


A    TRIAL.  287 

nounced  her  intention  of  teaching  again,  and  was  reso- 
lute in  her  determination,  though  it  was  vehemently 
opposed  by  both  Margaret  and  her  father  and  mother. 

Mr.  Wilton,  at  last,  finding  that  it  was  of  no  use  to 
say  more  to  her,  obtained  for  her  a  situation  as  assist- 
ant in  a  flourishing  boarding-school  at  Newton,  so  that 
Mrs.  Wilton  might  not  be  left  alone,  he  said. 

Employment,  she  felt,  was  what  she  needed,  and, 
engrossed  in  her  duties,  she  soon  felt,  as  she  appeared, 
like  her  olden  self. 

Months  slipped  rapidly  away,  and,  in  the  autumn, 
a  letter  from  Emily  announced  her  approaching  union 
with  Mr.  Templeton,  and  requested  Esther  to  be  her 
bridesmaid. 

This  announcement,  though  it  was  what  Esther  had 
desired  and  expected,  caused  her  some  sadness,  but 
she  reproached  herself,  and  struggled  violently  to 
overcome  her  weakness.  In  a  great  measure  she  suc- 
ceeded ;  but  she  felt  that  she  could  not  perform  the 
friendly  service  which  Emily  asked. 

She  wrote  her  kindly  and  cheerfully,  wishing  her 
all  happiness,  but  declining  to  act  as  bridesmaid,  al- 
leging, as  an  excuse,  her  inability  to  leave  her  school 
duties,  as,  indeed,  it  would  have  been  very  incove- 
nient. 

Long  letters  from  Virginia  and  Maria  soon  reached 
her,  giving  her  glowing  descriptions  of  the  wedding. 
Maria,  in  a  postscript  added,  that  oSTed  Somers  had,  at 
last,  been  rejected  by  Virginia,  and  was  about  sailing 
for  Europe. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

VIRGINIA  AT  HOME. 

THE  afternoon  sun  was  shining  brightly  into  a  hand- 
somely furnished  parlor  in  Portland,  where  Mrs.  Clif- 
ton and  Virginia  were  seated  alone  together. 

"  Mother,"  said  Jennie,  sauntering  up  to  a  mirror, 
and  twisting  one  of  her  long  curls  round  her  finger, 
"  I  must  have  a  new  dress  for  Mi's.  Anderson's  party." 

"  Why,  Virginia,  won't  your  India  muslin  do  ?  you 
have  only  worn  it  twice  !" 

"  No  ma'am,"  emphatically  replied  Virginia,  "  I'm 
not  going  to  be  known,  like  Pauline  Vernet,  by  my 
dress,  and  hear  it  whispered,  "  here  comes  Virginia 
Clifton  with  that  everlasting  India  muslin." 

u  Well,  then  !  I  suppose  you  must  have  one.  What 
shall  it  be  ?  A  pink  tarletou  ?" 

"  Tarleton  !  no,  indeed  !"  repeated  Virginia  scorn- 
fully. "  I'm  tired  to  death  of  such  dresses  !  At  every 
party,  you  meet  tarletons  flounced,  or  with  double 
skirt,  or  trimmed  in  some  such  way,  at  every  step. 
No,  mother,  I'm  not  going  to  be  dressed  in  any  such 
common  affair." 

"  What  do  you  want,  then  ?"  asked  her  mother. 

"  Oh  !  a  lovely  white  silk,  looped  up  with  rosebuds, 
and  trimmed  with  blond  or  Valenciennes  lace." 


VIRGINIA    AT   HOME.  289 

"  White  silk  !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Clifton,  in  her  turn 
astonished. 

"  Oh  !  pink  will  do  as  well,  if  you  prefer,"  said  Vir- 
ginia. "  In  fact,  perhaps  pink  would  be  more  becom- 
ing." 

"  Why,  my  child,  you  are  crazy  !  Think  how  ex- 
pensive it  would  be,  and  you  would  never  wear  it 
more  than  twice,  either." 

"  I  don't  care,"  persisted  Virginia,  "  but  one  of  two 
things  is  certain, — either  I  have  the  dress,  or  I  won't 
go  one  step  to  the  party." 

"  And  what  excuse  will  you  make  to  Mr.  Norton, 
who  has  engaged  to  go  with  you  to  Mrs.  Anderson's." 

"I  leave  that  to  you,  mother.  You  may  say  I'm 
sick,  or  anything  else  you  choose ;  and  he  may  go 
with  Fan  Currier, — she's  dying  to  get  him  in  her 
train.  I'm  sure  I  don't  care  who  he's  tacked  to,  if  I 
only  get  clear  of  him.  I  don't  know,  on  the  whole, 
but  it  will  be  the  best  way,  to  withdraw  a  while  from 
the  field,  and  let  Fan  take  him  off  my  hands." 

"  You  talk  very  foolishly,  Jennie,"  said  her  mother, 
— Norton  was  the  only  one  of  her  daughter's  many 
suitors,  whom  she  thought  it  best  to  secure,  as  he  was 
regarded  as  a  very  eligible  match, — "  and  you  treat 
Mr.  Norton  very  improperly." 

"  I'll  treat  him  worse  than  ever,"  replied  Jennie, 

"  if  I  can't  go  to  the  party.     I'll  see  if  I  can't  provoke 

him,  if  he  has  any  spirit  in  him.     Oh  !  I  do  hate  a 

man  that's  so  like  a  whipped  spaniel ;  the  more  you 

abuse  him,  the  more  ready  is  he  to  lick  your  hand  !" 

"  Virginia  Clifton  !  stop,  this  moment  !"  exclaimed 

13 


290  NOW-A-DAY8. 

her  mother,  with  heightened  color  and  flashing  eyes, 
"  Dare  to  behave  as  you  have  proposed,  and  I  will  re- 
nounce you  forever.  You  may  form  your  own  plans, 
and  carry  them  out  as  you  choose ;  you  shall  have  no 
assistance  from  me." 

Virginia  quailed  a  little,  for  she  did  not  like  to 
brave  her  mother  in  her  occasional  fits  of  passion,  but 
said,  "  Well,  mother,  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you. 
Get  me  the  dress,  and  I  will  be  as  polite  as  possible  to 
the  ancient  gentleman,  whom  you  have  selected  for 
my  cavalier  ;  but,  if  you  do  not,  I  have  enough  of  my 
mother  in  me,  to  do  as  I  have  told  you." 

"  I  will  see,"  replied  Mrs.  Clifton,  "  but  I  hate  to 
ask  your  father.  Nothing  makes  him  so  angry  as  to 
ask  him  for  money." 

"  I  leave  you  to  manage  that,"  said  her  daughter. 
"  But  you  must  ask  him  to-night,  for  there  are  only 
two  days  before  the  party." 

Mr.  Clifton  soon  after  entered.  He  was  a  tall,  and 
fine-looking  man,  but  he  looked  care-worn  and  wea- 
ried, and  threw  himself  languidly  down  in  a  chair, 
without  speaking. 

"Does  your  head  ache?"  asked  his  wife,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  shortly,  and  subsided  into  si- 
lence. 

Mrs.  Clifton  looked,  appealingly,  towards  Virginia, 
who  had  withdrawn  to  a  window,  where  she  stood, 
carelessly  playing  with  one  of  the  curtain  tassels. 

"  Just  as  you  choose,  mother,"  she  said  aloud,  in 
answer  to  her  mother's  look. 


VIRGINIA    AT   HOME.  291 

Mrs.  Clifton  sighed,  and  then,  approaching  her  hus- 
band, said,  "  Jennie  is  invited  to  the  Andersons'  to  a 
party." 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?"  replied  Mr.  Clifton,  crustily. 

"  She  wants  a  new  dress,"  continued  her  mother. 

"  A  new  dress  I"  he  repeated,  "  and  where  does  she 
expect  to  get  it  ?  How  much  money  will  she  need  ?" 

"  Certainly,  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  dollars,"  said 
his  wife. 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Clifton,  in  violent  anger, 
"  and  where  am  I  to  raise  it  ?  Here  I  am,  harrassed 
to  death,  my  notes  falling  due,  and  nothing  coming 
in  to  pay  them  with.  Dunned  by  everybody  for 
money,  to  pay  bills  that  your  foolish  extravagance 
has  run  up,  at  every  store  in  town,  and  when  I  come 
home,  tired  and  worn  out  with  trying  to  keep  myself 
and  you  above  water,  you  too,  begin  to  teaze  me  for 
money  !  Oh  !  you  are  like  the  daughters  of  the  horse- 
leech, crying  'Give!  give!'" 

"  Then,  1  suppose,"  said  his  wife,  "  you  will  not 
let  Jennie  go  to  the  party  !" 

"She  may  go,  for  all  that  I  care,"  he  replied, 
harshly. 

"But  you  do  not  want  her  to  look  shabby?"  per- 
sisted Mrs.  Clifton. 

"  Woman !  woman !  you  will  drive  me  crazy  !"  ex- 
claimed her  husband.  "  I  tell  you,  failure,  dishonor 
and  beggary  are  staring  me  in  the  face,  and  is  this  a 
time  to  talk  to  me  of  ball  dresses  ?  I  have  struggled 
like  a  drowning  wretch  for  years  past,  but  I  cannot 
do  it  much  longer.  I  must  sink !  You  and  poor  Jen- 


292  NOW-A-DAYS. 

me,"  he  said,  his  voice  softening,  "  may  thank  your 
stars,  that  you  have  bread  to  eat ;  for  if  I  should  die, 
God  knows  what  would  become  of  you !" 

"  Oh,  father  !"  exclaimed  Virginia,  coming  to  his 
side,  and  fondly  embracing  him,  "  I  will  not  add  to 
your  troubles  !  I  do  not  want  the  dress !  Oh  !  if  I 
could  only  help  you,  in  some  way !" 

"  Poor  child !  and  what  can  you  do  ?"  he  said 
gently. 

"  Not  much,"  she  replied,  bitterly.  Oh !  if  I  were 
only  a  man !  How  much  I  would  do  for  you  !  But 
it  is  of  no  use  telling.  What  we  can  do  now,  is  to 
give  up  this  house,  sell  this  expensive  furniture,  and 
live  within  our  means.  It  would  be,  perhaps,  a  little 
mortifying,  but  it  is  false  pride  alone  that  would  pre- 
vent. I  am  willing  to  do  anything  to  relieve  you  !" 

"  God  bless  you,  my  child  !"  said  her  father,  releas- 
ing himself  from  her  embrace,  and  leaving  the  room. 

"  Oh !  what  a  curse  is  poverty !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Clifton,  throwing  herself  back  in  her  easy  chair,  and 
clasping  her  jewelled  hands. 

Virginia  glanced,  with  a  bitter  smile,  upon  the  rich 
and  costly  furniture  of  the  room,  upon  her  mother's 
and  her  own  rich  dress,  and  replied:  "Say,  rather, 
what  a  curse  is  false  pride,  and  that  contemptible  fear 
of  what  the  world  will  say,  that  leads  us  to  live  be- 
yond our  means." 

Mrs.  Clifton  did  not  heed  this  remark,  but  went 
on — "  You  see,  now,  Virginia,  what  I  have  to  endure ! 
This  is  only  one,  of  a  thousand  similar  scenes,  that 


VIRGINIA   AT   HOME.  293 

your  father  gets  up,  whenever  I  say  anything  about 
money.  Oh,  my  child  !  never  marry  a  poor  man !" 

"  If  I  did,"  retorted  Virginia,  "  I  would  accom- 
modate myself  to  his  circumstances ;  not  drive  him 
to  despair,  in  trying  to  gratify  my  whims." 

"  You  deceive  yourself,"  replied  Mrs.  Clifton. 
"  With  your  expensive  habits,  what  you  would  call 
economy,  would  drive  a  poor  man  mad." 

"It  is  unnecessary  to  dispute  about  that,"  re- 
turned Virginia,  "  but  at  least  I  can  do  something, 
if  it  is  but  little,  to  help  father.  I  will  support  my- 
self! I  will  teach!" 

"  Never !  Neither  your  father  nor  I  would  ever 
allow  it,"  replied  her  mother.  "  If  you  are  so  anxious 
to  help  him,  do  something  far  better,  marry  Mr. 
Norton." 

Before  Virginia  could  reply,  her  father  re-entered. 

"  There,"  said  he,  handing  her  a  roll  of  bills,  "  take 
this  and  get  your  dress  1" 

"  But,  father,"  began  Virginia. 

"Do  not  say  anything,"  interrupted  Mr.  Clifton. 
"  I  have  frightened  you.  Matters  are  not  quite  so 
bad  as  I  represented  them." 

As  she  left  the  room,  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  She 
may  as  well  take  what  I  can  give  her  now.  I  don't 
know  how  much  longer  I  can  stagger  under  my 
business.  This  is  but  a  drop  in  the  ocean,  and  if  I 
deny  her  request,  it  will  help  neither  my  creditors 
nor  myself." 

"  But  if  she  should  marry  Mr.  Norton,"  began  his 
wife. 


294  NOW-A-DAYS. 

"  Jane !"  replied  her  husband,  sternly ;  "  I  have 
violated  my  sense  of  what  is  right,  often  enough,  God 
knows !  I  can  hardly  believe  that  I  am  the  same 
man  I  once  was !  But  I  will  never  sell  my  child — 
she  shall  never  be  forced  into  a  marriage.  Let  her 
do  as  she  chooses" — and  he  paced  hurriedly  up  and 
down  the  parlors. 

"But  she  shall  choose  to  become  Mrs.  Norton," 
muttered  Mrs.  Clifton  between  her  closed  teeth ;  then 
rising,  she  followed  Virginia  to  her  chamber. 

"  I  will  not  get  the  dress,'5  said  Jennie,  as  her  mo- 
ther entered,  "  and  I  am  sorry  enough  to  have  added 
a  feather  to  father's  load  of  troubles." 

"  Pshaw,  Jennie  !"  replied  her  mother ;  "  you  don't 
know  your  father  so  well  as  I  do.  He  has  been  talk- 
ing these  twenty  years,  in  the  same  way.  He  would 
get  along  well  enough,  if  he  only  had  a  little  assist- 
ance. A  lift  from  a  son-in-law  would  set  him  on  his 
feet  at  once,  and  relieve  him  from  this  pressure  of 
business  ;  which,  to  own  the  truth,  I  sometimes  fear 
will  really  make  him  insane !" 

Virginia  grew  pale  ! — Insanity !  It  chilled  her  very 
blood.  She  idolized  her  father,  and,  for  the  moment, 
thought  no  sacrifice  too  great  to  save  him. 

Her  mother  read  her  thoughts,  and  thinking  she 
had  said  enough,  left  the  room,  taking  with  her  the 
bills  which  Virginia  had  thrown  carelessly  on  the 
bureau,  for  she  was  resolved  that  her  daughter  should 
look  more  beautiful,  at  the  coming  party,  than  any 
of  the  rival  belles,  who  were  candidates  for  the  hand 
of  the  wealthy  Mr.  Norton. 


CHAPTER  XXVH 

TWO   LIFE-PATHS,    AND   THE   CHOICE. 

VIRGINIA  reclined  musingly  upon  a  sofa,  in  the  par- 
lor of  her  father's  house.  She  was  lying  with  her 
eyes  half  closed,  and  a  pleasant  smile  parted  her  lips. 
A  letter,  which  she  had  been  reading,  she  held  in  her 
hand,  and  ever  and  anon  she  glanced  at  its  pages.  So 
absorbed  was  she  in  her  reverie,  that  she  hardly  no- 
ticed the  entrance  of  the  stately  and  handsomely- 
dressed  woman,  who  approached  her,  and  drawing  a 
chair  to  her  side,  asked  her  "  what  she  was  dreaming 
about?" 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  future,  mother,"  she  replied. 
"  I  believe  this  letter  was  the  beginning  of  my  dream, 
and  the  end, — oh,  I  don't  dare  to  tell  you  the  end," 
she  added,  smiling,  as  she  gave  the  letter  to  her 
mother. 

"  The  end  of  all  day-dreams,  I  suppose,"  replied 
Mrs.  Clifton,  as  she  took  the  letter ;  "  they  usually 
share  the  same  fate — an  airy  nothing,  which  melts 
1  into  thin  air ;'  '  the  baseless  fabric  of  these  visions 
leave  not  a  wreck  behind.'  " 

"  Well,"  she  continued,  when  she  had  finished  the 
perusal  of  the  letter  which  her  daughter  had  given 


296  NOW-A-DAYS. 

her,  while  Virginia  had  been  anxiously  watching  her 
features,  endeavoring  to  read  her  opinions,  but  with- 
out success — "  well,  Jennie,  let  me  read,  now,  the  re- 
ply to  this  eloquent  gentleman's  letter.  He  has  really 
a  very  poetical  name — Edward  Sidney.  Where  is 
your  reply  ?  I  suppose  it  is  a  rejection,  and  that  you 
have  consigned  him,  like  so  many  more  of  your  ad- 
mirers, to  that  sad  state,  where  life  is  a  blank,  &c.  &c., 
until  they  forget  their  woes,  in  a  new  love  affair — 

'  Even  as  one  heat,  another  heat  expels, 
Or  as  one  nail,  by  strength,  drives  out  another, 
So  the  remembrance  of  their  former  love 
Is  by  a  nearer  object  quite  forgotten.' 

But  your  reply,  my  dear  ?" 

"  I  have  not  yet  written  one,"  replied  Virginia ; 
"  but,  mother,"  she  added,  speaking  with  difficulty, 
and  blushing  deeply,  "  I  had  not  determined  to  re- 
ject him." 

"Indeed  !"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  coolly,  looking  at  her 
daughter  with  a  searching  glance,  "  and  why  not, 
pray  ?  I  do  not  regard  him  as  a  very  eligible  match. 
Why  not  ?"  she  repeated. 

"  Because,  mother,"  answered  Jennie,  "  I  do  really 
love  him,  and  though  he  is  not  rich,  nor  will  he  pro- 
bably ever  be,  as  he  himself  says,  yet  I  know  I  should 
be  happy  with  him.  For  oh,  mother,  wealth  is  not 
always  happiness.  He  is  so  noble,  so  good, — he  will 
check  all  my  faults,  and  I  feel  sure  that  under  his 
direction,  I  shall  be  a  more  noble  and  true  woman." 

"  Can  he  assist  your  father  ?v  asked  her  mother 
coldly. 


TWO    LIFE-PATHS,    AND    THE   CHOICE.  297 

"  I  know  that  he  would,"  replied  Virginia,  enthusi- 
astically ;  "  he  would  make  every  exertion  in  his 
power,  for  he  is  the  most  unselfish,  generous  man  in 
the  world." 

"  Have  you  finished,"  returned  Mrs.  Clifton,  as 
Virginia  paused.  "  Because  I  must  say  that  I  am 
surprised.  That  you,  a  sensible  girl,  should  talk  in 
this  way  is  perfectly  incomprehensible.  But  this  love, 
as  they  call  it,  what  fools  it  makes  of  all  the  world  ! 
What  do  you  think  a  paltry  sea-captain's  pay  would 
do,  towards  relieving  your  father  ?  Nothing !  It 
would  be  swallowed  up,  like  a  grain  of  sand  in  the 
sea ;  but  setting  aside  this  consideration  ;  think  of 
yourself,  with  beauty,  talents,  accomplishments,  all 
wasted  on  a  common  sailor ;  and  some  half-civilized 
villagers  your  only  society.  Picture  yourself,  Vir- 
ginia, as  the  wife  of  such  a  man,  whose  frequent  ab- 
sence must  be  employed  by  you  in  sewing,  or  quietly 
spending  a  few  afternoons  with  his  mother.  A  man 
who  would  be  forever  finding  fault  with  your  lively 
manners,  for  you  would  be  often  exciting  his  jealousy 
by  your  attractiveness,  and  your  coquetry  ;  for,  Miss 
Jennie,  though  your  mother,  I  can  see  that  you  are 
a  coquette,  and  a  few  words,  which  tie  you  for  life  to 
any  man,  will  not  change  your  character.  You  will 
sigh  for  society — you  will  brook  no  restraint,  and 
though  you  may  imagine  that  you  will  find  perfect 
happiness  in  a  union  with  Edward  Sidney,  /  see 
only  a  brief  dream,  to  be  followed  by  a  bitter 
waking,  and  long  years  of  repentance.  See  now, 


298  NOW-A-DAYS. 

how  different  will  be  your  future  as  the  wife  of  Mr. 
Korton." 

Virginia  shuddered.  "  Oh  mother !"  she  exclaim- 
ed involuntarily,  "Do  not  name  him!" 

"Don't  be  so  silly!"  retorted  her  mother.  "Let 
me  tell  you,  that  by  a  marriage  with  him,  you  step  at 
once  into  a  sphere  to  which  you  are  suited — a  leader 
of  fashion.  You  can  thus  free  your  father  from  all 
his  harrassing  cares !  The  wife  of  an  elderly  man, 
proud  of  the  beauty  and  charms  of  his  young  bride, 
you  can  do  with  him  what  you  will,  that  is,  if  you 
manage  him  right,  and  I  have  no  fear  of  you  there. 
You  know  very  well,  Virginia,  what  it  is  to  be  strug- 
gling through  a  lifetime  with  poverty,  or  you  know 
enough  at  least  to  keep  you  from  falling  into  the  de- 
lusion of  '  love  in  a  cottage.'  It  may  do  very  well 
now  for  a  few  years,  but  look  farther.  See  yourself, 
in  one  case,  a  pale,  feeble  woman,  worn  out  and  har- 
rassed  by  the  petty  cares  of  life,  careworn  and  every 
vestige  of  beauty  gone,  most  probably  bereft  of  that 
love  for  which  you  have  braved  all  this ;  for  it  is  true 
enough,  that  when  '  poverty  comes  in  at  the  door, 
love  flies  out  at  the  window ;'  or,  in  the  other  case, 
the  same  years  have  but  added  to  your  beauty.  You 
will  be  still  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  society, 
and  happy  in  doing  right  and  in  following  the  advice 
of  your  mother,  whose  interest  and  yours  are  one. 
Choose  now,  my  dear  Jennie,"  said  her  mother. 
Look  at  it  well,  and  decide." 

"  Leave  me,  mother,"  said  her  daughter,  in  a  hol- 
low voice.  "  To-morrow " 


TWO    LIFE-PATHS,    AKD    THE    CHOICE.  299 

u  No,  Jennie,  decide  now.  Which  shall  it  be,  the 
wife,  or  rather  drudge  of  Edward  Sidney,  or  the  ele- 
gant Mrs.  Norton  ?  Remember,  too,"  she  added  im- 
pressively, "  that  your  father  stands  or  falls  on  your 
decision,  though  I  have  said  but  little  about  that,  and 
these  are  not  the  times  when  children  are  ready  to 
suffer  for  parents.  You  know  all,  and  I  need  not  re- 
peat what  you  already  know  so  well." 

Virginia  made  no  reply  for  some  time.  At  last  she 
looked  up  from  the  sofa,  where  she  had  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands. 

"  I  have  decided,"  she  said.  "  I  will  do  as  you 
wish !" 

"  Spoken  like  my  own  daughter,"  replied  her  mo- 
ther, while  Jennie,  who  had  hoped  even  against  hope, 
that  her  mother  would  not  compel  her  to  make  such 
a  sacrifice,  fell  back,  pale  and  fainting,  upon  the 
sofa. 

No  gleam  of  pity  softened  Mrs.  Clifton's  eye,  as 
she  looked  on  her  child ;  she  merely  remarked,  as  she 
applied  some  restoratives,  "  You  should  learn  to  con- 
trol yourself!  Mr.  Norton  is  to  receive  his  answer 
from  me,  and  he  will  be  here  to  see  you  to-night. 
Remember  !  no  foolish  shrinkings.  You  have  chosen 
him  of  your  own  free  will !" 

"  Oh,  mother  !"  groaned  Virginia,  "  This  is  more 
than  I  can  bear !  I  cannot,  will  not  see  him  to- 
night!" 

Mrs.  Clifton  looked  at  her,  and  saw  that  she  did 
indeed  appear  too  feeble  to  see  any  one. 


300   ' 


NOW-A-DAYS. 


"  Well,  then,"  she  answered,  "  I  will  excuse  you  to 
him  for  this  time." 

A  mute  look  of  gratitude  was  her  only  reply. 

"  And  this  letter,  Virginia  ?  Will  you  answer  it, 
or  shall  I  ?" 

"  I  cannot,"  replied  her  daughter. 

"Very  well!  I  will  do  it,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton. 
Then  taking  Jennie's  hand,  continued,  "  You  had  bet- 
ter go  to  your  room  and  lie  down  a  while." 

Virginia  complied  with  her  mother's  advice,  and  as 
she  left  the  room,  Mi's.  Clifton  looked  after  her,  mur- 
muring, "  It  is  for  her  good." 

Alone  in  her  chamber,  Virginia  thought  of  all  that 
had  passed.  It  seemed  almost  like  a  dream,  that  she 
had  refused  the  man  she  loved,  and  was  to  become 
the  wife  of  another  ;  but  as  her  thoughts  gained  form, 
she  began  to  agree  with  her  mother.  She  had  seen 
too  long  the  struggle  to  keep  up  appearances,  which 
had  galled  her  mother's  proud  spirit,  had  seen  too 
many  of  the  shifts  to  which  poverty  had  driven  her, 
to  wish  for  a  similar  life.  The  thought,  too,  that  she 
had  saved  her  father,  added  strength  to  her  resolu- 
tion. By  degrees  she  began  to  grow  reconciled  to  the 
idea  of  her  wealthy  lover,  and  she  knew  that  he  must 
have  no  idea  that  she  was  his  unwillingly,  if  she 
would  retain  that  power  which  she  knew  she  pos- 
sessed over  him. 

Resolutely,  then,  she  determined  that  she  would  go 
on  in  the  path  she  had  chosen.  The  crisis  in  Virgi- 
nia's fate  had  come  !  Henceforward  no  weak  regrets 
should  hinder  her  from  walking  steadily  forward  in 


TWO  LIFE-PATHS,    AND    THE    CHOICE.  *     301 

her  chosen  way.  When  once  she  had  fully  decided, 
she  lay  exhausted  awhile,  then  at  last  fell  asleep.  - 

Her  mother  found  her  sleeping  when  she  entered 
her  chamber,  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  brow,  satis- 
fied that  the  true  happiness  of  her  child  was  secured 
to  her.  "  She  shall  never  suffer  what  I  have  borne 
so  long — the  sting  of  poverty,"  she  murmured.  "  Her 
proud  spirit  shall  not  be  broken,  nor  her  life  be  made 
miserable,  by  the  meannesses  to  which  want  compels 
its  victims.  My  darling  child  !''  she  uttered  audibly, 
as  she  kissed  her  again  fondly,  and  stole  quietly  from 
the  room. 

It  was  quite  late  when  Virginia  awoke  from  her 
sleep.  She  rose  hastily  and  went  into  the  parlor. 
Her  father  was  slowly  walking  the  floor. 

"  Is  it  true,  my  child,  as  your  mother  tells  me,  that 
you  have,  of  your  own  free  will,  consented  to  marry 
Mr.  Norton  ?"  he  asked,  approaching  her,  and  taking 
her  hand. 

"  It  is  true  !"  replied  Virginia,  calmly. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  love  !"  returned  Mr.  Clifton, 
"  and  may  you  be  happy  !" 

"  He  shall  never  know,"  thought  Virginia,  "  that  I 
make  a  sacrifice  for  him,  and  indeed  I  do  it  willingly, 
though  he  is  too  noble  to  allow  it,  if  he  knew  all." 

"  And  when  is  the  marriage  to  take  place  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Clifton. 

"  As  soon  as  possible,"  she  replied  briefly,  and 
going  to  the  piano,  began  playing  a  lively  air. 

"  You   have  not    deceived  me,  Jane  ?"   said  Mr. 


302      '  NOW-A-DAYS. 

Clifton,  almost  sternly,  to  bis  wife,  who  was  at  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room. 

"  Does  she  look  like  a  miserable  victim  ?"  asked  his 
wife,  glancing  at  her  child,  who  wore  the  excited  and 
heroic  look  of  a  daughter,  as  she  felt  she  was,  about 
to  save  her  father. 

Her  father  looked  at  her,  and  though  but  half  con- 
vinced, was  forced  to  be  satisfied. 


CHAPTEK  XXVm. 

ALMOST   AN  OLD  MAID. 

"THIETY  years  old  to-day!"  repeated  Esther  Has- 
tings, musingly,  as  she  sat  alone  in  her  quiet  cham- 
ber. "  Thirty  years  old !  I  am  indeed,  as  I  have 
overheard  my  pupils  call  me,  an  old  maid.  But  why 
should  I  shrink  from  the  title  ?"  She  went  on,  think- 
ing half  aloud,  "  Though  the  duties  of  wife  and  mo- 
ther may  not  be  mine,  yet  I  may  fill  a  place  in  soci- 
ety equally  noble." 

The  vision  of  Aunt  Mary  rose  before  her,  pure  and 
holy,  dispensing  joy  wherever  she  went,  soothing  the 
sad,  and  rejoicing  with  those  who  rejoice.  "  Help 
me,  oh  Father  !"  she  murmured,  "  to  take  cheerfully, 
like  her,  the  path  destined  for  me,  that  when  death 
comes,  I  may  receive  the  welcome,  "  Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant." 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  by  the  open  window,  and 
standing  before  the  mirror,  began  to  arrange  her 
abundant  brown  hair,  which  the  wind  had  tossed, 
somewhat  rudely  displacing  it. 

Time  had  not  made  any  ravages  on  Esther's  smooth 
cheek;  it  had  but  added  beauty  to  her  noble  and 
cheerful  countenance.  Decision,  tempered  by  gen- 


304:  NOW-A-DAYS. 

tleness,  shone  in  her  quiet  smile,  and  she  turned 
away,  half  smiling,  as  she  found  no  old-maidish  signs, 
after  close  scrutiny. 

A  tap  at  the  door,  and  little  Emma,  Margaret's  old- 
est child,  a  sweet  little  girl  of  eight  summers,  handed 
her  a  letter  and  a  little  box,  on  opening  which  she 
found  a  golden  locket,  containing  the  daguerreotypes 
of  Emma  and  her  little  brother  Herbert. 

"  My  birthday  present  to  you,  dear  aunt  Esther," 
said  Emma,  as  she  received  many  a  warm  embrace 
from  her  aunt. 

Esther  now  seated  herself  to  read  her  letter ;  it  was 
from  Maria. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you,  this  evening,  my  dear  Es- 
ther," it  read,  "  and  thought,  that  since  my  heart  was 
with  you,  my  pen  should  make  it  known  to  you  ;  for 
I  feared  that  you  were  not  spiritual  enough  to  feel  its 
presence,  or  at  least  to  interpret  its  language,  without 
assistance.  It  is  the  anniversary  of  my  wedding-day, 
my  friend  ;  and  as  I  sat  here  alone  (for  little  Charlie 
has  gone  to  bed,  and  his  father  is  attending  a  public 
temperance  meeting)  I  thought  of  the  time  of  my 
happy  deliverance  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  when 
you,  dearest  Esther,  were  my  good  angel.  Tears,  but 
blissful  ones,  fill  my  eyes,  as  I  contrast  that  hour  with 
the  happy  one  when  Charles,  proud  and  triumphant, 
claimed  me  as  his  wife.  How  different  now  the  con- 
fidence that  I  repose  in  him,  from  the  trembling  fear 
which  I  should  have  felt,  though  I  would  hardly  own 
it  to  myself,  with  which  I  should  have  placed  my  hap- 


ALMOST    AN    OLD    MAID.  305 

piness  in  his  keeping.  And  how  different  my  feelings 
in  that  hour  when  my  father  gave  me,  with  his  bless- 
ing, to  my  husband,  from  those  when  I  seemed  to 
hear  his  curse,  and  to  see  the  look  of  sad  reproach 
and  betrayed  confidence  with  which  he  regarded  me. 
Charles,  too,  has  never  ceased  to  thank  you,  for  so 
clearly  placing  the  right  before  him,  and  I  know  often 
reechoes  my  fervent  '  God  bless  you !'  Oh,  Esther 
my  heart  is  full  to  overflowing,  when  I  see  the  pater- 
nal fove  which  my  father  lavishes  upon  Charles,  and  the 
respectful  tenderness  which  he  gives  in  return. 

"  But  enough  of  myself,  for  I  forget  that  I  may 
weary  you.  You  ask  me,  'What  of  Virginia?'  I 
meet  her  but  seldom,  as  she  is  very  much  in  society, 
and  I  remain  as  I  ever  was,  a  stay-at-home  body.  We 
meet  occasionally  at  parties,  where  Virginia  is  always 
radiant  as  ever,  her  gay  laugh  as  musical,  and  her 
flashes  of  wit  as  brilliant,  as  in  her  palmiest  days. 
She  is,  as  she  always  was,  extremely  fascinating. 
Her  husband  idolizes  her,  and  she  seems  perfectly 
happy.  I  said  that  I  saw  her  but  seldom ;  but  she 
came  here  a  few  days  ago.  I  had  Charlie  in  my 
arras,  the  dear  little  fellow,  and  Virginia  took  him, 
caressing  him  fondly.  As  she  gave  him  back  to  me 
she  sighed,  saying,  '  I  almost  envy  you  your  treasure.' 
You  know  she  is  childless  ;  her  only  child  died  when 
only  a  year  old.  Poor  Virginia !  thought  I,  there  is 
one  bitter  drop  in  your  cup  of  happiness  ;  I  hope  not 
enough  to  destroy  its  entire  sweetness. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  that  Mr.  Templeton  has 
returned  from  Europe.  Poor  Emily  !  she  is  buried  in 


306  NOW-A-DAY8. 

a  foreign  land.  The  sunny  skies  of  Italy,  where  she 
sought  health  again,  shine  on  her  grave.  Mr.  Tem- 
pleton  has  brought  home  his  two  children  ;  poor  little 
motherless  things,  how  I  pity  them.  I  clasped  little 
Charlie  close  to  my  heart,  when  I  heard  of  Emily's 
death,  and  felt,  in  some  sort,  the  agony  of  her  parting 
moments,  from  the  pang  that  struck  me,  as  I  thought 
of  my  own  dear  child  left  thus  desolate. 

"  I  had  a  call  last  week  from  Captain  Sidney  and 
his  wife.  She  is  a  very  lovely  woman  ;  that  is,  IdVely 
in  manners  and  disposition,  though  she  is  quite  plain. 
Her  delicate  health  is,  I  presume,  the  cause  of  the 
premature  decay  of  her  beauty.  I  am  afraid  poor 
Captain  Sidney  will  not  have  her  long ;  he  seems  to 
watch  over  her  with  the  most  ardent  devotion. 

"  But  I  hear  my  husband's  step ;  so  good-bye  for 
to-night,  and  may  God  bless  you,  is  the  prayer  of 
your  friend,  MARIA  WALDRON." 

A  postscript,  in  a  firm,  manly  hand,  was  added  by 
Charles,  urging  her  to  visit  them,  and  sending  his  love, 
which  he  said  his  wife  had  strangely  forgotteuHo  en- 
close. 

With  a  light  and  happy  heart,  Esther  hastened 
along  to  her  school  that  morning  ;  and  never  had  life 
seemed  more  beautiful,  or  full  of  promise,  than  on 
the  morning  that  ushered  her  into  the  era  of  old 
maidenhood. 

"  You  seem  very  happy,  my  child,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
ton, looking  at  Esther's  calm  face,  as  she  sat  upon  the 
piazza  that  surrounded  her  adopted  father's  house, 


ALMOST    AN    OLD   MAID.  307 

while  the  beams  of  the  setting  sun  shed  a  glow  over 
the  landscape. 

"Yes,"  replied  Margaret,  who  sat  near,  her  boy 
leaning  upon  her  knee  ;  "  I  think  Esther  has  the  phi- 
losopher's stone,  which  transmutes  everything  into 
gold.  I  wish  you  would  give  me  your  wonderful 
secret." 

"  I  can,  very  easily,"  answered  Esther,  as  she 
smoothed  the  curls  of  her  little  niece  Emma,  who  sat 
by  her  side.  "  It  is  the  simple  thing  of  faith  in  God, 
trusting  his  love,  and  seeing  his  hand  in  every  event 
of  life,  whether  glad  or  sorrowful.  Would  that  you, 
dear  Margaret,  were  a  partaker  of  my  joys." 

"You  do  have  a  wonderful  facility  in  pressing 
everything  into  the  service  of  enforcing  your  peculiar 
views,"  replied  Margaret,  with  a  smile ;  though  her 
lip  quivered,  and  she  turned  away  to  conceal  the  tears 
which  rose  to  her  eyes. 

"  There's  father !"  cried  out  Herbert ;  and  Margaret 
hastened  down  the  shaded  walk  to  meet  her  husband, 
accompanied  by  her  children. 

Esther  and  Mrs.  Wilton  looked  with  fond  affection 
upon  the  noble  pair,  as  they  came  slowly  up  the  wind- 
ing roa.d  ;  Horace  Mclntyre's  arm  encircling  his  beau- 
tiful wife,  while  the  children,  skipping  playfully  along, 
talked  of  the  events  of  the  day. 

"  One  thing  only  thou  lackest,"  thought  Esther,  and 
her  heart  rose  in  prayer,  that  this  greatest  gift  might 
be  bestowed  on  her  loved  ones. 

Mr.  Wilton  was  soon  seen  hurrying  up  the  same 
road,  the  same  ever  busy,  restless  look  in  his  fine  eyes, 


308  NOW-A-DAY8. 

and  on  his  wrinkled  brow.  Ten  years  had  made  but 
little  change  in  the  hurried,  energetic  business  man, 
neither  had  Time  laid  his  hand  heavily  on  the  invalid, 
Mrs.  Wilton  ;  but  her  step  was  slower,  her  thin  and 
•wasted  form  thinner,  and  she  was  passing  away, 
though,  so  gradually  did  she  draw  nearer  to  the  spirit 
land,  that  the  anxious  eyes  of  affection  scarce  heed- 
ed it. 

A  few  days  passed  much  as  usual.  Horace  had 
nearly  finished  the  business  which  had  brought  him 
to  Newton,  and  their  family  were  soon  to  return  to 
their  quiet  home  in  Yermont. 

"  A  letter  for  you,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Wilton,  as 
he  came  up  to  Esther,  tossing  one  into  her  lap. 

She  was  sitting  alone  in  the  large  sitting-room,  and, 
approaching  the  window,  read  it  by  the  dim  twilight. 

Mr.  Wilton  had  left  the  room,  and  it  was  fortunate 
for  Esther,  for  tears,  which  she  could  not  restrain,  fell 
on  the  open  letter.  It  was  from  Mr.  Templeton,  ask- 
ing her  to  become  his  wife.  The  manly,  ardent  words 
brought  so  near  to  her  the  presence  of  her  noble 
friend,  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  heard  his  deep  voice, 
repeating  words  which  fell  on  her  heart  like  dew. 
She  calmed  herself,  and,  ordering  lights  to  the  libra- 
ry, replied  to  him,  bidding  him  come  to  her. 

Many  were  the  congratulations  which  she  received 
from  her  friends,  when  her  engagement  was  made 
known. 

Mr.  Templeton  soon  answered  her  summons,  and 
urged  no  delay  in  their  approaching  nuptials ;  and  not 
many  weeks  had  passed,  when  Esther  resigned  her 


ALMOST     AN    OLD    MAID.  309 

place  as  teacher,  for  the  narrower  but  delightful  sphere 
of  home. 

Aunt  Mary's  sweet  face  and  warm  welcome  met 
her  in  her  new  abode ;  for  she  said  she  did  not  wish 
to  enter  a  dreary  and  desolate  home. 

Flowers,  the  inseparable  companions  of  aunt  Mary, 
shed  their  fragrance  in  every  room  of  her  dwelling ; 
and  the  children  threw  their  arms  around  their  new 
mother's  neck,  and  pressed  their  dewy  lips  to  hers, 
with  no  horror  of  step-mothers  before  their  eyes. 

Aunt  Mary  did  not  tarry  long;  for,  though  her 
mother  slept  long  since  in  her  narrow  resting-place, 
she  was  as  much  needed  as  ever  in  her  brother's 
home ;  but  the  sunshine  which  she  always  bore  with 
her  seemed  to  linger  even  after  her  good-bye  was 
spoken  :  and  as  Esther,  the  night  after  her  departure, 
stole  quietly  into  the  sleeping-room  of  her  children, 
where  the  cool  evening  breeze  tossed  the  hair  of  the 
sleepers,  she  fell  on  her  knees  by  their  bedside,  pray- 
ing for  guidance  from  on  high,  to  so  lead  them  that 
they  might  meet  their  angel-mother  in  heaven. 

"My  cup  of  happiness  is  full,"  she  murmured; 
"help  me,  oh  Father,  never  to  forget  from  whose 
hand  I  receive  it." 


THE    END. 


Gems  of  Backwoods  Life,  sparkling  with  the 
Truth  of  Life  and  History ! 


JUST    PUBLISHED! 

A  New  Edition  of 


BY      JAMES      HALL. 

.  In  One   Volume,  elegantly  Illustrated.      Price,  $1.25. 

THIS  "Work  has  received  the  unanimous  approval  of  the  whole  Press  of  the 
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of  England.  The  undersigned  Publishers  now  place  before  the  Public  a  splendid 
and  entirely  new  edition  of  this  popular  book,  carefully  revised  and  corrected  by 
the  author,  and  adorned  with  new  illustrations  of  great  beauty  and  merit.  The 
"  Legends  of  the  West"  is  a  thorough  Amencan  book  in  its  tone  and  spirit,  and  in 
the  scenes  and  characters  which  it  causes  to  pass  vividly  before  the  reader.  The 
scenes  of  these  sketches  are  laid  in  the  Western  States  of  the  Union,  at  an  early 
period  of  their  settlement  ;  and  life  among  the  hardy  settlers  in  the  fertile  valleys  of 
Alpine  region  of  the  Alleghany  mountains,  along  those  monarchs  of  rivers,  the 
Mississippi  and  the  Ohio,  and  on  the  broad  and  rolling  prairies,  is  represented  with 
a  vivid  distinctness,  which,  while  it  is  true  to  nature,  possesses  a  wild  and  fasci- 
nating power,  showing  the  master-hand  of  the  author,  and  to  the  spell  of  which 
the  reader  involuntarily  yields  himself.  A  residence  of  thirty  years  among  the 
scenes  which  the  "  Legends  of  the  West  "  illustrates,  has  enabled  the  author  to 
preserve  that  fidelity  to  nature  which  forms  the  prominent  feature  and  constitutes 
the  main  charm  of  his  book.  The  Backwoodsman,  the  Pioneer,  the  Indian  Hunter, 
the  Barbecue,  and  the  Log-cabin  Courf  of  Justice,  pictured  in  •'  Legends  of  the 
West,"  are  speaking  portraits  not  to  be  mistaken.  Let  every  one  possess  this 
Work 

T.  L.  MAGAGNOS  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

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Is  this  day  and  generation,  it  is  altogether  as  superfluous  to  speak  in  praise  of 
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approving  seal  of  all  classes  of  readers  has  long  been  stamped.  Translated  into  all 
languages,  it  has  for  nearly  two  centuries  been  a  classic  among  the  learned  of 
every  country,  while  in  its  pages  the  most  humble  readers  of  all  nations  have  found 
a  never-failing  fund  of  intellectual  delight.  The  redoubtable  Knight  of  De  La 
Mancha,  and  his  Squire  Sancho  Panza,  are  as  familiar  as  household  words,  and  the 
charm  of  their  adventures  can  never  fail,  as  long  as  the  most  genuine  wit  and  the 
finest-pointed  sarcasm,  conveyed  in  the  simplest  language,  have  power  to  move 
the  human  mind.  The  present  edition  of  ''Don  Quixote"  is  the  most  complete 
one,  in  a  single  volume,  that  has  yet  been  issued  from  the  American  press.  It  has 
been  carefully  revised  and  corrected,  the  illustrations  are  of  a  high  order  of  merit, 
and  it  is  altogether  an  edition  which  no  student's  library  nor  domestic  circle 
should  be  without. 

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